Vgs'S 




COPYRIGHT, 1889, BY HAROLD ROORBACH 



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I. ALL THAT GLITTERS IS NOT GOLD. A comic drama in two acts. Six 
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3. A SCRAP OF PAPER. A comic drama in three acts. Six male, six female 
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3. MY LORD IN LIVERY. A farce in one act. Five male, three female charac- 

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14. MARRIED LIFE. A comedy in three acts. Five male, five female characters. 
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15. A PRETTY PIECE OF BUSINESS. A comedietta in one act. Two male, 
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16. LEND ME FIVE SHILLINGS. A farce in one act. Five male, two female 
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17. UNCLE TOM'S CABIN.— Original Version. A drama in six acts. Fifteen 
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!it. THE WOVEN WEB. A drama in four acts. Seven male, three female char- 
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23. MISS MADCAP. A comedietta in one act. Two male, one female characters, 
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24. THE DARKEY WOOD DEALER. A farce in one act. Two male, one fe- 
male characters. Time, twenty minutes. 

(OVER. 



Crawford's Claim 

OR 

NUGGET NELL, THE PET OF POKER FLAT 

A DRAMA IN PROLOGUE AND THREE ACTS 

BY 

J. E. COWLEY AND WILSON T. BENNETTE 



Authors' Edition printed from the Prompt -copy, with the 
Original Cast of the Characters, Synopsis of Inci- 
dents, Time of Representation, Description of the 
Costumes, Scene and Property Plots, Dia- 
grams of the Stage-settings, Sides of En- 
trance and Exit, Relative Positions 
of the Performers, Explanation 
of the Stage Directions, etc., 
and all of the stage 
Business. 



Copyright, 1890, by Harold Roorbach. 





NEW YORK 

HAROLD ROORBACH 
PUBLISHER 



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Crawford's Claim 



CAST OF CHARACTERS. 



PROLOGUE. 



Broadway Theatre, - 
Long Branch, N. J., 
Feb'y 15th, 1887. 
Herbert Stanton, an escaped convict, . . . Wilson T. Bennette. 

Sidney Woodward, a false friend, Chas. Claik. 

Mike Moore, a Tombs lawyer, John D. Griffin. 

Bill Mulligan, a genius, S. C. Halpin. 

Joe Bowers, " a broken down actor." Chas. Mayo. 

Bella Woodward, Sidney's wife, Ethel Florence. 

DRAMA. 

Budd Bunkem, a Western sport, Wilson T. Bennette. 

Manuel Lopez, alias Capt. Grip, Chas. Claik. 

" Deacon " Crawford, who owns the - Claim," . . . Frank Palmer. 

Jack Davis, who drove the " extra," John L. Sanford. 

Mike Moore, always on a case, John D. Griffin. 

Bill Mulligan, lieutenant to Lopez S. C. Halpin. 

Ling Ling, a giddy Celestial, John W. Gardiner. 

Joe Bowers, always a friend, John P. Carroll. 

Jim Sawyer, the sheriff, Simon Wade. 

Nugget Nell, the Pet of Poker Flat Lizzie Whitehill. 

Abigail Greenleaf, so gushing, I ,ola Hartley. 

Bella Woodward, Ethel Florence. 



A Lapse of Three Years Between the Prologue and Act I. 



Time of Playing. — Two Hours and a Quarter. 



4 CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 

SYNOPSIS OF INCIDENTS. 

Prologue. — Scene i. Woodward's home in New York. — The con- 
vict's return. — The story of the past. — A cool proposition. — A business 
appointment. Scene 2. A street. — Mike Moore's tribulations. — " All on 
account of an advertisement." — Joe Bowers spouts Shakespeare and bids 
a fond adieu. — A crank and his patents. — The meeting of friends. — Attor- 
ney and client. Scene j. Stanton's lodgings. — " Be the powers, we'll 
bother that Woodward before we get through with him." — An expected 
arrival. — "A snug little boodle." — Baffled! 

Act I. — "The Pilgrim's Rest." — A giddy Celestial. — Jim Sawyer on 
the warpath. — The chap in store clothes. — The Pet of Poker Flat. — How 
the " extra " beat the record from Blazes Bar. — A rat in the soup. — The 
Greaser's little scheme. — "You attend to your gin-slinging, and I'll look 
after my dad ! " — Joe Bowers turns up again, and Abigail Greenleaf has 
an adventure. — The deacon stakes his all, and loses. — " The Arkansaw 
Hand." — Tableau. 

Act II. — At Poker Flat. — Abigail and the Chinaman. — Joe Bowers to 
the rescue. — Ling Ling on his muscle. — A search for an heiress. — The 
story of Lord Percy. — The title deeds. — Woodward and Bella. — " In 
plain English, your little game is busted." — A startling discovery. — A Na- 
poleon of finance. — An assassin's hand. — Left in trust. — " My last piece of 
villainy has been done ; from now on I mean to lead an honest life." — The 
Greaser's revenge. — A dastardly deed. — Tableau. 

Act III. — Joe's home in Denver. — " Begorra, here's a transformation 
for ye ! " — Abigail puts on her war paint. — Ling in hot water. — Jack 
Davis' account of himself. — " Great Scott, but I'm just dyin' to sot eyes on 
that ar gal ! " — A fashionable young lady. — The deacon's retreat. — Nell's 
secret. — " I have come back to claim the woman I love." — A visitor is 
announced. — " It means the circus are about to begin." — Turning the 
tables. — The deacon drives the nails and Bill Mulligan clinches them. — 
At the end of his rope. — Denoument. — Tableau. 

COSTUMES. 

Herbert Stanton. — Prologue, Tramp, with crop wig and long boots. 
Act I. Flashy western suit, top boots, sombrero hat, brace of revolvers 
in belt. Act II. Mining suit, carries sack coat in arms. Act III. Full- 
dress. 

Sidney Woodward. — Prologue. First dress, full dress. Second 
dress, same with overcoat and silk hat. Acts I and II. Mexican dress. 
Act III. Prince Albert suit. 

Mike Moore. — Prologue. Character modern Irish-American. Acts 
I and II. Western miner. Act III. Smart business suit. 

Bill Mulligan. — Prologue. Smart business suit. Acts I and II. 
Western miner. Act III. Business suit. 

Joe Bowers. — Broken down actor till last act — then smart business 
suit. 

Bella Woodward. — Prologue. Full evening dress. Act II. Walk- 
ing dress. 



CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 5 

" Deacon " Crawford. — Acts I and II. As a miner of clerical ap- 
pearance. Act III. Quiet dark suit. 

Jack Davis. — Act I. Western stage driver; long coat, snap- whip, 
top boots. Act II. Same dress without long coat. Act III. Quaint 
business suit. 

Ling Ling. — Chinese dress all through. 

Jim Sawyer. — Rough western dress, with boots, slouch hat, etc. 

Nugget Nell. — Act I. Ragged dress, a la " M'liss." Act II. 
Neater dress. Act III. Full evening dress, en train. 

Abigail. — Acts I and II. Prim and prudish calico dresses, old maid- 
ish in the extreme. Act III. Neater, but same style. 

PROPERTIES. 

Prologue. — Scene 1. Handsome curtains. Centre table. Parlor 
chairs. Two stands of flowers. Pistol. Carpet down. Scene 2. Valise. 
Reticule. Documents. Scene 3. Rickety table. Chairs. Candle. 
Small vial. Old bureau up L. Blackjack. Three revolvers. Wine bot- 
tle in paper. Documents. 

Act I. — Rough bar with cards, bottles, glasses, syphon, etc., up L. 
Deal table and two chairs r. 2 e. Table L. Table with ironing mate- 
rials, up r. Clothes basket. Long whip. Paper money. Two revolvers. 
Bowie knife. Big rat. Old revolver. Cigarettes. Pie. Documents. 

Act II. — Three tree stumps. Documents. Small rifle. Bowie knives. 
Sure fire pistol. Two bouquets. Bird's-nest. Knife. Book. 

Act III. — Sofa, r. Curtains. Small desk or secretary up L. Writing 
materials. Rolling-pin. Documents. Chairs. Books. Carpet down. 
Visiting card on tray. Note in envelope. 

STAGE SETTINGS. 
Prologue, Scene z. 



Street Backing 



I 



Boor 



) 




Stand TubkiOmt 



CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 
Prologue, Scene j. 



Corridor Backing 
ft 



Tablet Chain 




ACT I. 



j Table 



Corridor Backing 
2W 



Door 



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l Tahle&Chahv 
Door 






ACT 


II. 




LanJfcapeBackmg 






Rut) 
Stump 




— 


BeiuroJiece — 


__ Rock 


Tree & Bank 


- © 

Stump 




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Stump 


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CRAWFORD*S CLAIM. 
ACT III. 



Corridor Backing 

'Do or »- 



r ijjaor i ■■■ \ 

IW Desk&Chair Doa . 




Easy Chair ^ 

SCENE PLOT. 
Prologue. 

Scene i. — Handsome parlor boxed in 4 G., backed with street in 5 g. 
Bay window, with curtains, c. in flat. Practicable door R. 3 e. Table c. 
with chairs R. and L. of it. Chairs L. and up r. c. Flower-stands r. and 
up L. Carpet down. 

Scene 2. — Modern street in 1 G. Entrances r. and l. 

Scene 3. — Rough chamber boxed in 3 G., backed with corridor in 4 G. 
Practicable door L. c in flat. Table and 2 chairs c Bureau up L. The 
scene exceedingly dilapidated in appearance. 

ACT I. 

Barroom in 4 c, backed with corridor in 5 G. Doors R. 1 e., r. 3 e., 
and r. c. in flat. Tormentors on. Rough bar up L. Table and 2 chairs 
opposite r. 2 e. Ironing table, etc., up r. Table opposite L. 2 e. 

ACT II. 

Rocky pass in 4 G. Run from R. u. e. across stage, with return piece 
to c. Set rock r. 3 e. Set tree l. 2 e., with bank in front of it. Tree 
stumps R., l., and up R. c. 



8 CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 

ACT III. 

Fancy chamber boxed in 4 G., backed with corridor in 5 G. Double 
door c. in flat, hung with curtains. Practicable doors, r. 3 E. and L. 3 E. 
Small desk or secretary and chair up L. Screen up R. C. Sofa R. Easy- 
chair L. Chairs R. and L. Carpet down. 

STAGE DIRECTIONS. 

In observing, the player is supposed to face the audience. R. means 
right; L., left; c, centre; R. c, right of centre ; L. c, left of centre; D. 
F., door in the flat or back scene; R. F., right side of the flat; L. F., left 
side of the flat; R. D., right door; L. D., left door; c. D., centre door; I 
E., first entrance ; 2E., second entrance ; u. E., upper entrance ; 1, 2 or 3 
g., first, second or third grooves ; Up Stage, toward the back ; Down 
Stage, toward the audience. 

R. R. C. C. L. C. L. 





CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 



PROLOGUE. 



Scene I. — Handsome parlor — music at rise — enter Sidney, r. 3 e.; 
crosses to window c, looking out. 

Sidney. Here on my very grounds ! Could I have been mis- 
taken, or was it a mere trick of my fancy ? {comes down) 

Enter Bella, r. 3 e. 

Bella. Sidney, why did you leave the ball-room so suddenly ? 
Are you ill ? 

Sidney, (sits L. of C. table') No, Bella ; but on going to the win- 
dow a moment ago, I saw a face gazing into mine — a face I 
thought was buried in the past forever. 

Bella. Sidney, you alarm me ! Of whom do you speak ? 

Sidney. Of the man who, twelve years ago, attempted my life. 
He was convicted of the attempt and sentenced to prison ; but he 
escaped, and, until a few moments ago, I thought he was dead. 

Bella. Surely, you do not mean Herbert Stanton ? Oh, it can- 
not be — you must be mistaken ! 

Sidney. 'Tis no mistake, Bella. I saw Herbert Stanton's face 
as plainly as I see yours now. But you must return to the ball- 
room — our guests will wonder at our strange absence. 

Bella. Do not stay here long, Sidney. I shall be anxious until 
you join me. Exit R. 3 E. 

Sidney. Can it be that he is not dead ; but has come to me at 
this late hour to fulfil the oath of vengeance he swore twelve years 
ago, when he stood up in the prisoner's dock and denounced me ? 
His words are still ringing in my ears : " You triumph now, but 
my time will yet come. I will live, (Hhrbert enters through win- 
dow c, listening to Sidney's words) to see you meet the fate you 
so richly merit — the gallows! " 

Herbert, (at c, back 0/ table) The very identical words, Sid.; 
how well you remember them. How are you anyway ? 



10 CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 

Sidney, [down R.) Who are you ? and how did you enter my 
house? [crosses to C.) 

Herbert. The door stood open and I came in on a zephyr. I 
wanted to look once more upon the face of the man who, under 
the guise of friendship, led me to my ruin, and after having made 
a wreck of my life, did concoct and carry out a devilish scheme 
whereby I was deprived of my liberty and sept to prison for a long 
term of years. Now do you wonder at the zephyr's bringing me 
in? 

Sidney. You impudent scoundrel ! leave my house at once or I 
will summon the servants and have you thrown into the streets. 
{crosses to R. of c.) 

Herbert. Sid, out thar in the mines whar I came from they make 
it a rule never to wake up a man when he's asleep — it makes him 
kind o' riled. Now I feel in a sort of somnambulistic state — don't 
wake me up, Sid ; don't wake me up. {sits L. of table c,) 

Sidney. Do you remember the past? Twelve years ago you 
made an attempt upon my life. Have you forgotten what that at- 
tempt cost you ? 

Herbert. Yes, perfectly. I was arrested on a trumped up charge, 
found guilty, and sentenced to Sing Sing prison for ten years. Now 
one year of that unjust sentence I served 

Sidney. And you again place yourself in my power? I have but 
to touch yonder button, summon the police, and have you sent 
back to prison as an escaped convict. 

Herbert. You can do it, Sid, but you won't. 

Sidney. What is to prevent me ? 

Herbert. Well, this. {bus. — shows pistol) Besides, you might not 
like the police to hear what I have to say about a certain Mary 
Barton. 

Sidney. Curse you ! what do you know about her ? 

Herbert. Sit right down thar, Sid, and I'll tell you all about it. 
{music pp — Sidney sits R. of table C.) The Mary Barton of my 
story was a young, pure and beautiful working girl of the city of 
Chicago. There she was met by your cousin Harry, who fell 
madly in love with her, and did eventually marry her, but — mark 
you — under an assumed name. Shortly after his marriage he came 
to New York, on the plea that important business demanded his 
presence in the East, and here he married the banker's daughter. 
One day he received from wife number one — with whom the 
scoundrel had been corresponding — a letter, bearing the startling 
intelligence that Heaven had blessed them with a little daughter, 
and begging him to come to her side, for she was in a dying con- 
dition. He paid no attention to her appeal, but on the following 
morning set sail for Europe with wife number two, on a bridal 
tour. Sid, they never reached the other side, for the vessel in 
which they sailed foundered in a storm, and all on board were 



CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. II 

lost. In looking over your late cousin's effects you came across 
the letter I have just mentioned ; and you at once put the matter 
in the hands of a certain person with instructions to find the girl, 
if possible ; and if it were found that she had a legal right to the 
estate, that she was to be done away with — eh, Sid ? 

Sidney. Curse you ! how came you in possession of these 

Herbert. Facts — eh, Sid ? every durned one of them. But to 
continue my story. One day on returning to my cabin out in 
Nevada, I found the dead body of a man lying at my door, who 
met his death, no doubt, by falling from one of the high cliffs 
above. In searching him, hoping thereby to find some clue where- 
by he might be identified, I came across a memorandum book in 
which was written the story I have just narrated. Sid, the man I 
found dead at my cabin door, way out thar on Mt. Davidson, was 
the man sent by you to find your cousin's child. Well, I buried 
him, and having done so, I took up the trail wharhe laid it down. 
And, Sid, I have followed it ever since. 

Sidney. And may I ask what you have discovered, my prince 
of detectives ? 

Herbert. Enough to strip you of the heritage you are now enjoy- 
ing ; for I have in my possession the marriage certificate of your 
cousin Harry to Mary Barton ; also the baptismal record of their 
child. And what is more, Sid, I can put my hand on that ar gal 
at any moment. 

Sidney. I understand. You at last have me in your power ; but, 
like the generous fellow you always were, you will, for a certain 
consideration, forego your revenge. 

Herbert. Sid, you've hit the mark plumb dab in the centre the 
very first time. Revenge to some is sweet, but to me a big fat 
boodle is a durned sight sweeter. Now you give me $20,000, and 
the documents are yours. 

Sidney. Twenty thousand devils ! Do you think I am crazy ? 
On the contrary, I will give you just twenty-four hours to leave this 
city. If I find you here after that, I'll put the police on your track. 
My business with you is at an end. Now go ! 

Herbert. All right, Sid. You're boss of the ranch at present, I 
reckon; and as I cannot obtain the sweeter I must be content with 
the sweet. You'd better think over my offer, Sid! I'll giveyou 
until to-morrow night. If I do not hear from you by that time I'll 
publish to the world the story of your cousin's crime. What do 
you think your rich old friend Markham will say when he hears how 
his daughter was made your cousin's dupe ! Sid, I'm stopping at 
No. 10 Front street, at present, where I hope you'll have the good 
sense to call and see me. Exit c. 

Sidney. Curse him ! I wouldn't have the news of that Mary 
Barton affair reach old Markham's ears for the world. There is 
no other way out of it — I will have to call upon him ; and if he 



12 CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 

has the papers in his possession, I must obtain them at any cost. 
Herbert Stanton, you have entered the lists against me ; we will see 
who comes out the victor, (at window looking off — close in) 

Scene II. — Street in first grooves — lively music at change. 

Mike, [without L.) I tell you, I don't want it. (backs on from L. I 
E.) Get out, or I'll brain ye ! Was there iver a man so bothered 
in all his life as I am this mornin' ? And all on account of an 
advertisement I put in the morning papers for a good selling 
patent article that a client of mine wishes to purchase. And be 
the powers, iver since the papers came from press, the very life has 
been bothered out av me by cranks and their patents — they 
brought me iverything from a baby carriage, jumper and nursing 
bottle all in one. (still looking off'L.) Arrah ! there goes McCarthy, 
and he's vexed yet ; but a madder man I niver saw than he was 
in coort this mornin', when I got that poor divil, Joe Bowers, out 
of his grasp for the third time this week. "What, ' says I to his 
honor, " what does the poor divil be doing but stand on the corner 
and shout Shakespeare all day ? " " He's insane,'' says McCar- 
thy. " You're a liar ! " screamed the prisoner. " Silence in the 
coort ! " roared the Judge. Howly smoke ; but it was hot. 

Enter Joe Bowers R. i e. , carrying a dilapidated carpet bag. 

But I got the poor divil off, and his honor forbade McCarthy iver 
to bring Joe before him again. 

Joe. Ah, my noble, generous friend, how can I ever repay you 
for all the kindness you have shown me in the past ? 

Mike. Shure, that's all right ; don't say a word about it. I'd 
do anything to help a poor divil along in the world. But I say, 
Joe, what are ye doing with the carpet sack ? Where are ye 
going? 

Joe. To where fame and glory await me. The advertisement 
which, many thanks to your kind aid, I have been able to keep in 
the papers, has at last been answered ; and I have this morning 
received an offer from the manager of the " Golden Gate Combi- 
nation " to play the leading tragic roles. I start for the West this 
very hour to play a long engagement in all the principal cities, so 
must bid thee a fond adieu at once. Wish me good luck, old 
friend, and God-speed. 

Mike. Shure, and I'll do that same. If there's anything I can 
do for you, Joe, all you have to do is to say the word. 

Joe. I ask for nothing but your good wishes. So good-by, old 
friend ; and if for ever, still for ever, a long, last, fond adieu. 
(shakes hands with Mike — exit l. i e. ) 

Mike. There he goes, poor divil. Shure, he'll be back in a week, 



CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 13 

bag and baggage. Well, I must be off. But what did I do with 
those deeds of Clancy's? 

Enter Bill, l. i e. 

Bill. Ah ! the very man I want to see. Mr. Moore, I believe. 

Mike. Yis, that's what I'm ginerally called. Can I do anything 
for you in my line ? 

Bill. You advertised this morning for a good selling patent arti- 
cle, did you not ? 

Mike. I did, and, be the powers, I got more than I bargained 
for. Tell me, are you another one of those cranks ? 

Bill. I am Mulligan, sir, the discoverer of the greatest remedy 
known to the public and the scientific world — " Mulligan's Masto- 
donian Liniment and Cough Mixture." Has been known to cure 
extreme cases of paralysis and consumption — is sure death to ca- 
tarrh — can wrestle victoriously with a broken leg or the tooth- 
ache — will knock the insides out of the blindstaggers, and is made 
from 

Mike. Pure herbs — the great Indian secret; is known to only 
two living souls, and one of thim is dead. You can't spring any 
racket like that on me, young man, for I am there every time. 

Bill. Allow me to assure you that you are mistaken, and after 
you have heard my modus operandi 

Mike. Now I don't want to hear anything about Moses or your 
operandis either. 

Bill. But listen. It is estimated that in the United States alone 
there are ten million ladies that wear veils. Now we will enter 
into an agreement with all the veil manufacturers, pay them a roy- 
alty, and have stamped on every blessed veil, in white letters — 
with a fancy bunch of flowers in one corner— this device: " Use 
Mulligan's Mastodonian Liniment and Cough Mixture. Good for 
everything. Good for man and beast." All the ladies will read 
it — the dear creatures, they can't help it, you know, for it will be 
before their eyes constantly. They will buy a bottle from natural 
curiosity. Result — ten million bottles sold already. 

Mike. Say, young man, are your brothers and sisters troubled 
with the same disease as yourself? 

Bill. That don't seem to strike you favorably, does it ? Well, 
here's another — regular peaches and cream ! You've no doubt 
seen those fancy cards they hang up in parlors, bedrooms, Sun- 
day-schools — in fact, everywhere. Well, we'll get up a corner in 
them. We'll get them up something after this style : " God bless 
our Home, if we only use Mulligan's Liniment." "What is a 
home without a Mother and a bottle of Mulligan's bang-up 
Cough Mixture." " A long life and a merry one, if we only use 
Mulligan's infallible remedies." " Mother-in-law is tamed by a few 



14 CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 

applications of Mulligan's Mastodonian Liniment and Cough 
Mixture." That will fling the article broadcast over the land, and 
in six months you will have six horses to drive and a colored man 
to wait on your door. Now, how is that? 

Mike. Darned, cursed, infernal foolishness. 

Bill. I'll never give up. The secret of success lies in tomb- 
stones. 

Mike. Tombstones? Be heavens, he'll be after grave diggers 
next. 

Bill. Yes, sir, tombstones. Now we will get up a monopoly on 
them — we will give them away free. Every bereaved family in 
the land will scoop in a tombstone. We will put on them the name 
and age of the defunct, free of charge, right alongside of the fig- 
ure ofa crying angel, and underneath in big, black letters: "This 
man or woman" — as the case may be — "would not be lying 
here now if they had only used Mulligan's Infallible Remedies. 
Good for everything— only twenty-five cents a bottle — sold at all 
druggists?" How is that ? A regular A No. I. ain't it ? 

Mike. No, it ain't. It's stuff, idiocy. What do you take me 
for anyhow — an addle pated idiot? I have something else to do 
besides listening to the ravings of an escaped lunatic. 

Bill. Now this may sound like the ravings of an escaped luna- 
tic. We'll catch all the flies in America — paint them green, and 
let them go again. People will notice it. Scientific men will take 
it up, it will get into the newspapers — free advertisement, sir, free 
advertisement. Then the question will arise: ''What made the 
flies green ? " That will be the greatest conumdrum of the age. 
Then we will come out boldly and say ; " 'Twas Mulligan's Mas- 
todonian Liniment and Cough Mixture did it." Then all the peo- 
ple will flock to you, and they'll 

Mike, (btts.) Take you this way and that way. [runs Bill off 
L. i e.) Be the powers, for the man that invents a patent bouncer 
there's a fortune before him. (runs against Herbert, who enters 
R. i. e.) Arrah, get out of me way. There's another one of those 
cranks. 

Herbert. What, Mike Moore, don't you know me ? 

Mike. Be the powers, if it's not Mr. Stanton ! Shure, I heard of 
your escape from prison some years ago, but not learning any- 
thing of you since, I thought you were dead. But where have you 
been, and what are you doing around here now ? 

Herbert. Well, Mike, after my escape from prison, I went out 
West, part of the time working a claim I own out there, and part 
of the time searching for the young heiress of the Woodward es- 
tate, for I am sure that somewhere in the mining camps such a 
person is to be found. Mike, I may need your help. 

Mike. Faith, anything I can do that will help you to get even 



CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 1 5 

with that blackguard of a Woodward, you are welcome to. What 
is it you want me to do ? 

Herbert. Mike, I have given Sidney Woodward to understand 
that I have in my possession the marriage certificate of Mary Bar- 
ton to his cousin Harry, and the baptismal record of their child. 
Mike, I need those papers ; can you help me? 

Mike. Yis, but hould on a bit, me bye, till I cross examine ye. 
Ye want a certificate of marriage and a record of baptism. I'm 
an honest man, Herbert, and may Heaven pardon me if I will re- 
sort to any practices but legal ones — though I'd do anything for a 
friend. Now, if ye had these documents, to fwhat use would ye 
put them ? 

Herbert. Primarily, to dispose of the forged papers in order to 
make him feel more secure in his usurped position. I do not re- 
quire the money I shall attempt to get from him in exchange for 
these papers, but to gain time to prosecute my search for this lost 
heiress. With those documents in his possession, he will fancy 
himself secure from the law, and will not put any more dogs on 
the scent to run this heiress down. I have spent a large sum of 
money already on this case, but should I lose my life in the en- 
deavor to accomplish my desire, I would gladly give it, in order 
to be revenged upon him for having me imprisoned on a false 
charge. 

Mike. I believe ye, me bye, and there's me hand on it. Now 
let's see ! I can get a marriage certificate easily enough, but 
the record of baptism will bother me like the divil, for I niversaw 
one av thim drawn up. 

Herbert. Won't the supposed simple statement of a clergyman 
answer ? 

Mike. Arrah, but you've hit it. So let us go down to my office 
and then to your room. I have an ould certificate of my aunt's 
that I think I can fix up for you. 

Herbert. Then let us go at once, for time is precious. 

Exit L. 1 E. 

Mike. Faith, I have the makings of a judge in my composition 
— only I'm such an honest man. Exit L. 1 E. 

Scene III. Rough chamber. M ike and Herbert discovered at table C. 

Mike. And so the blackguard had two wives ; arrah, what in- 
nocent creatures these women are to be sure. But, be the pow- 
ers, we will bother that Woodward before we get through with 
him. And there you are ! Faith, but the acid has made the pa- 
per look plenty old enough, and as Sid has never seen the origi- 
nal writing he will be unable to detect the fraud we have practiced 
upon him. 

Herbert. Thank you, Mike. You have done a good piece of 
work, and I'll not forget you for it. 



1 6 CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 

Mike. Arrah, whisht ! say nothing. But I must he off. Pat 
Bolan nearly killed his mother-in-law this morning and he wants 
me to defend him ; so I'll just step down and see what sort of a 
defence he's got. But, Herbert, my boy, if that Woodward comes 
— squeeze him — my boy, squeeze him. Exit d. f. 

Herbert. Squeeze him ? Never fear, Mike, I'll bleed him like a 
leech. (Sidney knocks at D. f. ) Come in. 

Enter Sidney, d. f. 

Sidney. Good-evening, Herbert. No doubt you are surprised to 
see me here so soon. 

Herbert. I expected you ; but sit down, Sid. You see, I am not 
living in such grandeur as in days gone by. But I'm glad you 
showed so much respect for the inevitable. Have you decided to 
give me the price I asked for the papers? (Sidney is seated l. of 
table) 

Sidney. I shall pay you nothing until I have examined them. 

Herbert. Oh ! very well, I will get them for you. [rising) 

Sidney. We have ample time, sit down. I want to have a long, 
friendly talk with you. I confess that I haven't treated you fairly 
in the past, and this evening I mean to explain certain acts I was 
forced to commit against you. And thinking talking rather dry 
work, I stopped in the hotel on my way up and brought with me a 
bottle of your favorite brand — Green Seal. 

Herbert. Hold on thar, Sid ; not a drop of liquor passes my lips 
to-night. Sid, fourteen years ago, when I was yet a mere boy, 
you and I were firm friends. I trusted you fully in all things, lit- 
tle dreaming that my guileless nature was being imposed upon ; 
and from one step to another, you lured me on to inevitable ruin. 
The banking house in which we both were employed, was being 
systematically robbed ; and one night, when my brain was crazed 
with liquor, you poured your hellish scheme into my ear — to 
plunder the bank. You placed the keys in my hand, and then, 
scarcely conscious of my actions, I entered the bank, only to find 
myself in the clutches of the law. By the aid of marked money 
found on my person, and which you swore y 'ou had placed in your 
private drawer several days before, I was indicted by the grand 
jury ; but on my trial, through some technicality of the law, I was 
acquitted. Maddened, infuriated, at the disgrace my good name 
had sustained, I rashly assaulted you, which you swore was an 
attempt upon your life ; and I was convicted and sent to prison. 
Now, Sid, before we proceed further in this matter, tell me what 
object you had in thus persecuting me? 

Sidney. I was insanely jealous of the attentions you paid the lady 
who is now my wife. But let bygones be 

Herbert. Stop ! enough. I will overlook the past for the sake of 



CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. \j 

my present necessities ; and $20,000, is quite a snug little boodle, 
eh, Sid? And now, I will get you the papers. 

Music — Herbert crosses to old bureau up l. —Sidney saturates 
handkerchief from small vial, creeps behind Herbert, about whom 
he throws his arms and applies handkerchief to his nostrils — they 
struggle— Sidney throws Herbert across table, strikes him over 
head with billy — Herbert drops. 

Sidney, [rifling Herbert's pockets) So ! The fool wouldn't 
drink, eh? Well, no matter, so long as I get what 1 came for. 
[takes pistol frotn Herbert's coat) He goes well armed. The 
papers must be in yonder bureau, [goes to bureau, finds documents 
— examines them) He spoke the truth after all. I'll examine these 
more at my leisure. Now, then, to summon the police and have 
him returned to prison. 

Exit D. F., Herbert slowly returns to consciousness — music pp. 

Herbert, [slowly getting up-bus.) Oh ! no you don't Sid ; — $20,000, 
and the documents are yours — Oh! no, Sid.; I'm too slick for you 
this time. — Ha ! take your hands off — let go your hold, I say — 
take your hands off my throat ! — Oh ! my head — my head.— 
Blood f Blood! Oh! where am I ?— I remember now — Sid was 
here — he drugged me — [feels for pistol — looks at bureau) robbed 
me of my papers ; and now has gone, no doubt, to bring the police 
and have me sent back to prison. But I must escape while yet I 
have a chance. ( crossing up to D. F.) 

Enter Sidney and Officer, d. f. 

Sidney. Arrest that man ! 

Herbert. Hold ! The first that approaches me, I swear steps to 
his death ! 

Sidney. Heed not the braggart, he is unarmed. Once more, 
Herbert Stanton, I hold the winning hand. 

Herbert. Yes, you hold a good hand, Sid, but I scoop the trick, 
{bus. — pulls brace of pistols from his boots — levels them at Sidney 
and Officer l. ofc, Herbert r.) 

QUICK CURTAIN. 



ACT I. 



Scene. — Office and barroom of " The Pilgrim's Rest." — lively music 
at rise of curtain — Ling discovered ironitig at table up R. 

Ling. Bill no come — chockee full last night. Have lots big 



1 8 CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 

Melican fun. Chinaman have some funny business allee same like 
Bill, {goes to barh. and drinks — Bill yawns without R. 3 E.) Bill 
comee — Ling gettee. {irons at table) 

Enter Bill, r. 3 e. , yawning. 

Bill. Hello, Ling, you yaller imp, why didn't you wake me up 
sooner ? 

Ling. Me go to your homee — me say gettee up — you no gettee 
up — you chockee full last night. Sleep allee samee like hog. 

Bill. Anybody been here? 

Ling. Allee men go huntee Cap Glip. 

Bill. Well, I hope by this time Jim Sawyer is satisfied Cap Grip 
can't be caught. He's been searching for him for the last six 
months and hasn't succeeded in locating him yet. {noise without) 
Hello ! here come the boys now ! 

Enter Jim Sawyer and others, D. F. 

Bill. Why, hello, Jim, I hear you've been hunting Cap Grip. 
Have you found him? 

Jim. Wal, no, I ain't exactly found him, but I reckon I know 
who the durned cuss are. 

Bill. Who might he be, Jim ? 

Jim. Why, it's no one but that durned greaser. But, come, 
Jim, trot out yer pizen. We're holler, clar down to our boots. 
{goes to bar and drinks) 

Bill. So you think the greaser's the man, do you? 

Jim. Wal, I ain't exactly positive, Bill ; but if you remember, 
Cap Grip was never heerd on until after that durned greaser came 
into this yer camp, and I make bold to declar that if ever Cap 
Grip, the road agent, are found, you'll find that durned greaser 
purty nigh the same spot. We have more of his kind around hyar 
than are good for our health, and I move we drive every durned 
greaser and card sharp out of the place. 

Bill. It's all well enough to talk, but how are you going to do it? 

Jim. The same as we did in Californey when we were thar. Just 
organize ourselves into a vigilance committee, and when the 
durned critters find it out they'll vamose purty denied quick. And, 
pards, I move we do that very same thing. 

Jack, {without) Whoa, thar ! steady ! 

Jim. Hello! thar's the stage. But it can't be Hank Adams, for 
he ain't due yet for three hours. It must be an extra — let's go see. 
{about to cross up R. ) 

Enter Jack, d. f. 

What ! Jack Davis ! Why, you consarned old critter, whar'd you 
come from? 



CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 1 9 

Jack. Right from Blazes Bar, Jim, and I've beat the best record 
by an hour and a quarter. But, Jim, I want to introduce my new 
friend and pardner, 

Enter, Herbert, D. F.; takes R. C. 

Mr. Budd Bunkem. Pard, Jim Sawyer, the sheriff. 

Jim. [shakes hands with Herbert) Glad to meet you, stranger. 
Any friend of Jack Davis's will always meet with a hearty wel- 
come here. Hope you've come to stay, for you couldn't find a 
healthier place to locate this side o' Frisco. Poker Flat are but 
an infant yet, but she are the healthiest cub you ever seed. And, 
pard, you can take the word of Jim Sawyer for it every time. 

Herbert, (c.) I have no doubt of the truth of your statement, for 
I've always heard Poker Flat spoken of in the very highest terms ; 
and I am sure her praises have been sung none too highly. But, 
come, you and your friends join me in drinking to her success. 
( goes to bar L. ) 

Jim. Stranger, the boys never refuse a drink. Come, Bill, 
{goes to bar) trot out your very best ; the stranger are settin' 'em 
up. {lively music — enter Neix d. f.; hides behind Ling, watching 
Herbert) 

Herbert. Gentlemen, here's to Poker Flat, the garden spot of the 
Colorado range ; may her future be as bright as the gold that is 
dug from her soil, [all shout and drink) 

Jim. Thar, pards, is a gilt edged toast that makes the pizen glide 
down your throats as though it war greased. 

Herbert. Now, landlord, I'll go to my room. 

Bill. Ling, show the gentleman to number two. 

Exit Ling r. 3 e., followed by Herbert — Nell watches him off, 
standing at door. — the others all laugh — Nell turns and sees 
Jack. 

Nell. What, Jack Davis ! Whar'd you come from? 

Jack, [shakes with Nell) Right from Blazes Bar, Nell ; and 
guess what I've done — beat the best record by an hour and a 
quarter. 

Nell. Bully for you, Jack. I always said you'd do it. But I 
say, Jack, is that [pointing off R. ) what they sent the extra along 
for? 

Jack. What? 

Nell. Why, that mother's darling chap in store clothes and a 
biled shirt? 

Jack. Mother's darling chap ! [laughs) Well, that's the worstest 
name I ever heerd. 



20 CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 

Nell. Tell me all about it, Jack. Whar did he come from and 
what's his name ? 

Jack. Why, the Super sent him along on the extra, and his 
handle's Budd Bunkem. But, great catamount, gal, that ain't 
no name for him, for if it hadn't been for that mother's darling 
chap, store clothes and all, the extra would never have reached 
Poker Flat, and the boys at Five Forks would have been out a 
whole year's arnings. 

Nell. Jack, if thar's been a racket, and /not thar, I want you 
to tell me all about it. Say, boys, Jack's got a story to spin about 
the stranger. 

Nell, r.; Jack c; Jim c, and others l. 

Jack. Well, pards, this was the way of it. You see, the money 
to pay off the boys at Five Forks having arrived at Blazes Bar, 
the Super intended to send it along by Hank Adams in the morn- 
ing, but fearing that perhaps the road agents might have got wind 
of its arrival, and be wailing for him, he concluded to send it by 
me on the extra, by way of Eagle Head Pass— and let Dan Brown 
deliver it in the morning. Wal, I started and got along all right 
till I reached the head of the Pass — you know the place, Nell ? 

Nell. You bet I do ! You stopt thar to look at your horses' 
fastenings, for they say the grade on the other side is 1600 feet to 
the mile. But go on, Jack, you're a tellin' of this. 

Jack. Wal, pards, I stopped for just what Nell said, and finding 
everything all right was just about to start again, when I found 
myself surrounded by about fifty derned agents. 

Nell. And the leader with a bead drawn on you, and crying: 
" Hands up, Jack Davis, and kick down that dust-box instanter ! " 
Oh! I've been thar. But go on, Jack, and I'll not chip in again 
till yer thro*. 

Jack. Well, pards, Nell has hit it again, and my hands went 
climbing up into the air until they couldn't go no further, and I 
was just on the p'int of kicking down the box, when I heerd a 
shooting, and looking over my shoulder saw that the stranger had 
jumped from the stage and had opened fire on the varmints. He 
took 'em by surprise, and the next moment he was up alongside 
of me a shouting — " Drive on, Jack Davis, I'll cover you. Re- 
member the boys at Five Forks. Thar hopes and'inspirations lie 
in that box at your feet ! " Boys, the very horses seemed to un- 
derstand what he said, for they started down the grade at a light- 
ning speed, and then commenced the most terrific drive in all my 
twenty years' experience. 

Nell. Oh ! Jack. I can see it all. The horses with flashing 
eyes and distorted nostrils, their flanks covered with foam, went 
madly tearing down the mountain path, while close upon their 



CRAWFORD'S CLAIM, 21 

heels, in hot pursuit, came the blood-thirsty road agents. You 
urge the horses onward with whip and cry — while thar, with one 
foot firmly pressing the brakes, and the other upon the dust- 
box, stood your pard, a covering you and a shooting all that came 
within range of his rifle. You pass Devil's Run, cross Owl's Head 
Pass, turn Horse Short Bend 

Jack. And thar, gal, not ten yards away, sat another durned 
agent upon his horse, with a bead drawn upon me. Pards, I felt 
my chips war called for. The horses went tearing along at the 
same mad pace. I couldn't have stopped them if I would, and 
by the eternal, I wouldn't if I could, {all shout ) Then my pard 
turned, and with the same cry, " Drive on, Jack, I'll cover you," 
he threw himself once more between me and the varmints. The 
action balked the critter's aim, and before he could recover we 
were upon him ; and the hearse striking his horse, they were both 
hurled into the canyon below, [all shout) Well, after that every- 
thing was all right. I delivered the box into Dan Brown's hands 
and then drove hyar. But if it hadn't been for that cyclone that 
calls himself Budd Bunkem, the extra would never have beaten 
the best record by an hour and a quarter, and the boys at Five 
Forks would never have seen the color of their dust, [all shout) 

Jim. Say, boys, what do you say to making this pard of Jack's 
captain of the vigilance committee? {all shout) 

jack. Well, if you do, pards, and he accepts, I'll go my pile 
he'll drive every agent over the range in less than three months. 

Nell. Boys, you've all had your say, now listen to me. 

Jack. Let her shiver, gal, what is it ? 

Nell. Why, I want you boys to go out to them tired horses and 
fill their mangers full of oats, for if it hadn't been for them neither 
Jack nor Jack's biled shirt pard would ever have reached Poker 
Flat alive. (Jim and others, exeunt D. F., shouting;) 

Jack. By gum, gal, I could kiss you for them ar words. 

Nell. Put on the brakes, Jack, or you'll go all to smash, {puts 
up her foot to stop him) 

Jack. Well, I'll forgive you this time, you minx. But I'll tell 
you what I will do ; I'll hunt up that stranger and I'll tell him that 
I know a gal that's a dying to get introduced to him. 

Nell. If you do. Jack, and I find it out, I'll never speak to you 
again. 

Jack. And I'll tell him you called him the worstest name I ever 
heard — a mother's darling chap. Exit D. F. 

Nell, {after bus.) Say, Bill, has dad been here, to-night? 

Bill. Not yet, Nell, but it's pretty near his time. 

Nell. If dad comes to-night, I don't want you to give him a sin- 
gle drop to drink. 

Bill. Why, what's the matter, Nell? 

Nell. Ah ! I don't know. He came home last night and com- 



22 CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 

menced raving about three of a kind, jack pots, and full hands. 
I don't know what to make of him. But if he comes here to- 
night, don't give him anything stronger to drink than water — do 
you hear ? Exit, D. F. 

Bill. Well, I ain't def! Well, I guess if the deacon comes here 
to-night and wants anything to drink, and can pay for it, he can 
have all he wants. Now there's Jim Sawyer, the biggest cheat 
that ever flipt a card in this camp, and crying for a vigilance com- 
mittee. And they all wonder how Cap Grip gets his information. 
They'd be very much surprised to know who Manuel Lopez, the 
man who runs this hotel, really is. All right, Jack Davis, organ- 
ize your vigilance committee, and place Budd Bunkemat the head 
• — and I'll bet Cap Grip will come on top every time. 

Hurry music — Ling rushes on D. F. and hides under table down R. 
— Mike enters D. F. with pistol in one hand and big rat in the 
other. 

Mike. Where is the yaller nagur ? 

Bill. Hello, Mike, what's the matter? 

Mike. Where's the Mongolian thafe of the world ? Where's the 
haythen spalphane that gave me the dish of rat soup? Be the 
powers, if the government can't get rid of them I'll start up a pri- 
vate exodus on my own account, (sees Ling.) Come out av that 
ye almond eyed nagur ! (bus.) 

Bill. Mike, what are you going to do with Ling ? 

Mike. Faith, I'm going to put him through the culinary degree. 

Ling. What is that, Ilish ? 

Mike. You'll soon find out, me flower that blooms in the spring, 
tra la. You are cook of this establishment, I believe. 

Ling. Me velly nice cookee. Makee nice beef stew — roast 
chicken — beef stew — roast pork — beef stew — ham eggs — beef 
stew — nicee — nicee. 

Mike. Begorra, beef stew seems to be your best hold. But will 
you be after tellin' what kind of mate you call that? 

Ling. Nicee piecee rattee. 

Mike. And how the divil did that nicee piecee rattee get into my 
stew? 

Ling. Me go into kitchen — me see rattee on table — me say shoo, 
shoo ! allee same like Melican woman driving hen. Rattee he 
jumpee up and fall in the soup. 

Mike. Thin why didn't you pick him out again, instead of leav- 
ing him there to perish ? 

Ling. Beefee all gone— rattee make nice beef stew. 

Mike. Howly smoke, do you hear that ? An ould rat wid whisk- 
ers on him a yard long making nice beef stew. Haythen, the 
great Richelieu has said that when the lion's skin falls short, eke 






CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 23 

it out with the fox's. But this is the first time in the whole course 
of my life, and mind you I have eaten some very questionable 
dishes, but this is the first time I ever heard of the soup kettle be- 
ing replenished with damnable ould rat mate. Ouch! I'll niver 
get the taste av it out av me mouth. Haythen, I'll give ye one 
chance for your life. Efflex the taste of your damnable decoction 
from my mouth by an inflex of Mulligan's best whiskey, and I'll 
forgive ye. Will ye do it ? 

Ling. Allee lightee. Have nicee rumee punchee. {goes to bar ; 
is about to drink out of bottle on it ) 

Mike. Here, hould on. You foreigners are gettin' too forward 
— wait till gentlemin drink. Haythen, join me in this toast: 
" Here's that the angels above may send down a dove, with wings 
as sharp as razors, and cut the throat of every haythen Chinee 
that tries to cut down the laboring man's wages." There, drink 
that, and may it choke ye. And now, haythen, I'm ready to down 
you at a game of forty-fives. 

Ling. No likee 45 — me play pokee. 

Mike. Divil a poker. I played poker with you last night, and 
you kept poking nothing but deuces and trays at me every time 
you dealt. I'll play you 45s or nothing. 

Ling. All light, Ilish. Me play you 45. (crossing) 

Mike, (pulls him back) But, mind you, if I find you renaging 
I'll pop you, sure as my name's Mike Moore, And don't ye 
hold out the ace of hearts or the five fingers on me either. 

Exuent Ling and Mike R, I E. 

Enter Sidney, as Manuel Lopez, smoking cigarette, from D. f. — 
he walks leisurely to table L. and sits upon it — he uses Mexican 
dialect. 

Bill. Hello, Cap, I was just thinking of you. Have you heard 
the news ? 

Sid. Yes, they organize a vigilance committee to hunt Captain 
Grip. Well, leta them. They may finda Captain Grip a hard 
man to fool with. If this new arrival roba me of my prize I'll 
maka him pay dearly for it. Has the Deacon come yet ? 

Bill. No, but Nell was here and ordered me not to give him a 
drop to drink. By the way. Cap, how is your little scheme pro- 
gressing ? 

Sid. Oh! excellanta — excellanta. The fool, he no see I play? 
with him. Last night he came here and hold a big hand, and win 
$10,000. To-night he come to give me my revenge. If he bring 
the deed of the claim with him I will show him a little trick. If 
he no sella me the deed it may be won from him — Oh ! here he 
comes now. (crosses to table R.) 



24 CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 

Enter Deacon D. F. ; comes on very slowly as if weak. 

Bill. Hello, Deacon, what is it to be ? 

Deacon, [bus.) A little whiskey, Bill ; just a little, though. I 
can't stand it as I used to. 

Bill. Well, here — help yourself. 

Deacon is pouring out liquor info glass and about to drink — enter 
Nell, takes glass, and bottle from him, placing them on bar. 

Nell. Why, dad, what are you about to do? Didn't you give me 
your word that if 1 let you come here to-night you wouldn't touch 
a single drop? And now I find you drinking, just as though you 
never made me a promise ! Oh ! you naughty, naughty dad ! 

Deacon. Yes, 1 know I did, gal — I know I did. But I'm not as 
strong as I used to be. I'm getting old, gal — I'm getting old. 
(sits at table') 

Bill. Say, Nell, why don't you let the old man alone. After a 
hard day's work on the claim a little whiskey won't harm him. 

Nell. You just mind your own business. I guess I know what's 
best for my dad. Whiskey makes another man entirely of him. 
And then he's sick and acts strange at times, and hardly able to 
work. And I have to go around to the different saloons to sing 
and dance in order to make a living. You attend to your gin sling- 
ing, and I'll look after, my dad. (Nell talks with Ling, up) 

Sid. (r., to Deacon) Vera well, if you so decide — but I warn 
you, you will have to bet high ; it will take the dust to see my 
hand. 

Deacon. The higher the better. Luck is sure to be with me to- 
night. Besides, I have that with me which will enable me to see 
you dollar for dollar. Exit R. 3 e. 

Sid. Good ! He has the deeds of the claim with him. He will 
losa them. Exit R. 3 e. 

Enter Abigail and]o?., D. F. — they inter with extravagant strides, 
and are burlesqued by Nell and ~LmG. 

Abigail. Generous sir, are you sure we are safe from pursuit ? 

Joe. Fear not, gentle maiden. The cowardly ruffians will trouble 
thee no more. Didst notice how they flew before my advance ? 
They stood not on the order of going, but went at once. Did they 
rob you of your valuables ? And may I ask how one so beautiful 
as thou art came to be so far from camp unattended ? 

Abigail. You see, sir, although a woman, I am largely interested 
in the mines hereabouts. And this afternoon, while overlooking 
operations, your heroic actions won my everlasting gratitude. Had 
it not been for your timely arrival I might have fared badly at the 
hands of those ruffians. For your generous, noble action you have 



CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 25 

won my undying affection — my life is henceforth thine, (is about 
to throw herself into Joe's arms, but embraces Nell, who steps in 
quickly — Joe does the same with Ling — Joe and Abigail throw 
them off, and Nell and Ling exeunt d. f., laughing) 

Abigail. Oh ! that horrid girl ! 

Joe. Oh i fair one, thou dost me too much honor. That I were 
the humble instrument chosen to rescue from the foul hands of ruf- 
fians one so young, so beautiful, so innocent, fills me with joy 
unspeakable. But you tremble still. 

Abigail. My poor nerves are all unstrung. But if you will ex- 
cuse me, I will retire to my room and try to forget the startling 
events of this morning. 

Joe. Allow me the pleasure of seeing you to the foot of the grand 
stairway which leads to your boudoir. 

Bows Abigail off, R. 3 e. — re-enter Mike, r. i e. 

Mike. Well, well, I downed the haythen clane as a whistle. I 
razood him ! (sees Joe) Hello ! who the divil's that making love to 
Abigail Greenleaf? Be me soul! it's Joe Bovvers. Thim actor 
chaps would make love to the divil himself. 

Joe. (bus.) By the ghost of Hamlet! if it's not my old friend, 
Mike Moore. 

Mike. Ah ! Joe, so you remember me, eh? 

Joe. When Joe Bowers forgets the friend that stood by him in 
his adversity, then may the gods annihilate me. But where's 
Stanton ? And what brings you to Poker Flat? 

Mike. Sh ! Don't spake that name here. You see, we came out 
here to look for a little child, the heiress to a large property in New 
York, and prevent her, if possible, from falling into the hands of 
one Sidney Woodward, whom we believe to be none other than the 
notorious Capt. Grip, the road agent. But tell me, Joe, who is 
that young lady that just left you? 

Joe. No doubt you have seen the posters announcing my appear- 
ance to-morrow night at the Golden Gate, in select readings. Well, 
among them will be one from the beautiful romantic drama, enti- 
tled " Minnie, the Peanut Vender, or the Bologna Sausage-Mak- 
er's Love." Well, I was out on the bluff this evening rehearsing 
my scenes, in which I use a revolver, which is carried in my hand, 
when it accidentally exploded ; at the same time I heard a pierc- 
ing scream, and starting towards whence it came I saw lying prone 
upon the ground the body of Miss Greenleaf. To reach her side 
was but the work of a moment, but when I attempted to raise her 
she cried out, " Spare, oh ! spare my life, Mr. Robber, but take all 
my money! " Like a flash a scheme to get better acquainted with 
this female bonanza crossed my mind, and stepping back I hastily 
discharged the other chambers of my revolver in rapid succession, 



26 CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 

at the same time shouting : " Avaunt, robbers ! quit my sight ! " 
I then assisted the lady to her feet and was rewarded by an invita- 
tion to accompany her to the hotel where she is stopping. The 
rest you know. But, Mike, if I do not win this fair maiden's love, 
there is no art in acting. 

Re-enter Jack and others, D. F. 

Mike. But here come the boys. 
Jack. Whar'sNell? 

Re-enter Nell, eating pie, D. F. 

Nell. Here I am, Jack. What's wanted? 

Jack. Why, the boys want you to sing some of those highfolutin 
songs of yours, won't yer ? 

Nell. Oh ! I can't, Jack. I've been pie-eating all day, till I'm 
chock full, {specialties may be introduced, after which all retire to 
bar) 

Re-enter Deacon, r. 3 E. 

Deacon. Lost — ruined ! My God ! What have I done ? By my 
cursed infatuation I have ruined my little gal. Miserable wretch 
that I am, I will not live to see her suffer, {pulls pistol to shoot 
himself- — N ELL grasps his hand) 

Nell. Oh, dad, what were you about to do ? 

Deacon. See ! she is looking at me. She holds the little one up. 
I promised to be a father to it as long as the Lord let me live. 

Nell, {bus.) Oh! dad, dad, what do you mean — what has hap- 
pened? My God! he has lost his reason. Oh! won't some one 
take dad home for me? 

Joe. Why, certainly. Come, old man, let us get out of here. 
{is about to lead Deacon ^—Sidney enters, smoking cigarette, 
passes in front of Deacon very coolly and goes to bar) 

Nell. Take him to the cabin. I'll be there soon. Poor old dad ! 
{bus. — exit Joe rvith Deacon, d. f.) 

Mike. That's just like an actor. They're the most despised of 
all people, but the very first to lend a helping hand. (Nell looks 
off after Deacon) 

Jack. That durned greaser's at the bottom of this, I'll bet. No 
doubt he played a stocked hand on the old man. If he has, and 
I find it out, 'twar better he war in the clutches of a grizzly bar. 
{down R.) 

Sid. Come, gentlemen, take a drink with me. 

Jack. No, durned if we will ! 

Sid. Oh! vera well, please yourselves. Now, gentlemen, I bida 
you good-night, {crosses up stage) 



CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 2f 

Nell. Stop, Manuel Lopez, what have you done to my dad ? 

Sid. I win from him the deed of Poker Flat claim, that is all. If 
you doubt my word, there is the proof. What you say now ? 

Nell. That you didn't do it squar, and you can't make me be- 
lieve it. Poor dad thought he could win a fortune for his little gal 
quicker and easier than he could dig it from the soil, so he ventur- 
ed his all and lost. I say, boys, he must have played a stocked 
hand, and who among you will lend me a stake, and with it I'll 
try to win back dad's claim from this cheat. 

Jack. Here, Nell, are $1.500 — it's all the money I have in the 
world, gal, but you're welcome to it, every durned cent. 

Nell. Thank you, Jack, I'll not forget you for this. Now then, 
Manuel Lopez, see if you can cheat me as easily as you did my 
poor old dad. 

Sid. Not now — some other time. 

Jack. See here, greaser, you'll give that gal a chance right here 
and now — if you don't, by the etarnal, 111 drop yer whar yer 
stand, {covers him with pistol) 

Sid. Vera well ; Bill, another deck of cards. (Nell and Sid. sit 
at table, R., and shuffle cards — Mike rt«</LiNG are down L.) 

Mike. Hay then, 111 go you two bits Nell downs the greaser. 

Ling. No likee gleaser, no bettee, 

Mike. Faith, ye're as greasy as he is. Well, I'll go two bits the 
greaser downs Nell. 

Ling. All light. Me bettee on Nell allee time. 

Nell. Greaser, I'll go you $500. 

Sid. I'll see your $500 and raise you $2,oco. 

Nell. Oh you cowardly cayotte, I could kill you. 

Re-enter Herbert, r. 3 e. 

Herbert. Why, hello, my little bantam, what's the matter ? Who 
is it that you want to kill ? 

Nell. This cowardly cayotte, who has cheated my dad out of his 
claim. The boys loaned me a stake in hopes that I might win it 
back, but in my haste I forgot to make a limit, and the coward 
has bluffed me on my first raise. (Herbert looks at her cards) 

Herbert. That's all right, little one. Sit right down thar and 
play yer hand, and I'll back yer for for every dollar I'm worth. 

Sid. Who are you that dare interfere in the game, and cham- 
pion this woman ? 

Herbert. Greaser, whar I come from they call me Budd Bunkem. 
The name was taken from a sort of fence built by the farmers in 
the New England town I was born in. It was considered horse- 
high, bull-strong and pig-tight, and I ain't agoing back on that ar 
fence. The title of woman's champion is one I glory in, Greaser ; 






28 CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 

my mother was a woman, and if for no other reason than that, 
there isn't a woman on this broad continent of America but what 
has a claim on me. That's why I say the little one here shall 
have a fair chance to win back her dad's claim — and you just 
make a note of it. Here, little one, is $10,000. Use it, and when 
that's gone thar's more whar it came from. 

Nell. Thank you, stranger. I take back all I said against yer. 
If I win I'll pay yer back. If I lose I can give you nothing but 
my prayers. 

Herbert. And I'm sure they'll be listened to thar, {pointing up) 
and do me more good than all the gold in Colorado. So sit down, 
little one — play yer hand out — and don't let the money trouble 
you one durned bit. 

Sid. Come, Nell, what are you going to do ? 

Nell. Oh ! I'm going for you, Greaser. I see your #2,000 and I 
raise you. Greaser, a short time ago you offered my dad #9,000 
for the claim. I have just that sum by me, and 1 raise you that 
amount — the price you set upon the deeds you hold. 

Sid. I see through your little ruse, but it won't work. You think 
in order to see your hand I'll have to put up the deed of Poker 
Flat claim. Oh! no. There — that makes the bet even. But 
since you are so anxious to win back the claim, I will give you a 
fair chance. 'Tis true I did offer your father the sum you men- 
tioned, but since the Poker Flat claim has been in my possession, 
mining stocks have gone up. I now value it at $150,000. I raise 
you that amount. Now, backa down. 

Herbert. Not by a darned sight, Greaser ! [drives bowie-knife 
thro' money and documents on table) 

Nell. Oh ! sir, don't bet any more, I might have known how it 
would end. 

Herbert. That's all right, little one, we ain't beat yet. The 
greaser's given us a pretty fair bluff, I'll admit. Boys, did you 
ever hear tell of the Little Giant claim up in Nevada ? 

Jack. Certainly, pard ; and it's claimed to be the richest mine 
in the whole West. 

Herbert. Well, I'm the owner of that piece of property, and 
thar's my right to it. {shows document which he gives Nell) I 
value it at a much higher figure than the Poker Flat claim, but I 
give it all to my little pard here, to do with, just as she likes. 

Nell. And I place it against that Poker Flat claim and call him. 
What have you got? 

Sid. Four kings. 

Nell. Boys, I've got him ! 

Sid. Curse you ! what do you hold ? 

Herbert. An old Arkansaw hand, Greaser. 

Nell. Four aces ! {holds up cards) 



CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 29 

Sidney. Caramba ! (seizes ktiife stuck in table and turns on Her- 
bert who has drawn two six-shooters and points them at Sidney) 
Herbert. And a pair of sixes ! 

QUICK CURTAIN. 



ACT II. 

Scene — Poker Flat ; a rocky pass. 

Enter Abigail, r. i e. 

Abigail. What beautiful flowers ! and what Exquisite taste he 
shows in the arrangement of this beautiful bou4uet. Not a flower 
in it but breathes a tale of love. How artlessly he tells me in 
these few impassioned lines the depth and £rvor of his admira- 
tion. Ah! Abigail, what a happy girl you should be. But let me 
read these lines again, that they may become more firmly im- 
pressed upon my heart, (reads poem) 

Enter LlNG R. IE., with a bouquet of flowers ; kneels by Abigail 
with bouc ie t- 

Ling. Chinaman mashed on pelican woman's shape. Bling 
bouquet allee same likee Melica 1 man. (bus.) 

Abigail. What is this ? Ling at my feet with an offering of flow- 
ers. Are these flowers for nv> Ling ? 

Ling. Chinaman mashed^i your shape. Bling flowers to you. 

Abigail. And what is thr- poetry ? 

Ling. Yes, Chinese ryetry— me read him to you. Two pair 
stockee, three skirtee, t /0 shirtee. 

Abigail. Oh ! you w etch ! my laundry bill. 

Ling. Washee wa? lee cost y° u & lve dlollar. Mally me, washee 
cost you nothing. 

Abigail. Marry j ou » vou wretch! I'll scratch your eyes out. 
(makes a pass q/his face ; Ling* falls back and against Joe, who 
enters L. 1 E. /id throws LlNG to L.) 

Joe. Hen e > Mongolian varlet ! Get thee to a laun-dry. (catches 
Abigail fao zs about to faint ) Look up, my love, 'tis I. 

Abigail, (reclining in Joe's arms) Is it you, my life ? Then let 

me die. 

Joe. N J > sweet one » sa Y< rather, live, to make me the happiest 
of men Come, love, let us hie to yonder shady nook, and there 



30 CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 

I will in fancy paint for thee such a picture of future bliss that the 
very angels will hide their heads in envy. 

Exit with Abigail, r. i e. 

Ling runs to R. watching off— enter Mike l. u. e. ; sees Ling. 

Mike. {bus. ) Now, what the divil is that jumping-jack doing 
there ? Say, haythen, look here ; what did you want to run away 
for? 

Ling. Me no run away — me stay here all the time. 
Mike. Btt what the divil have you done with my shirts ? 

Ling. Me no gottee shirt — shirt on your back. 
Mike. I know there's one on my back — and it's been there ever 
since you took the others to wash — and divil hide nor hair have I 
seen of them snce. Come, tell me what you've done with them 
or I'll break eveiy bone in your body. 

Ling. You no gottee shirtee — shirtee mine. 

Mike. Well, damn me, if he hasn't the cheek of a horse. So 
the shirts are yours, eh ? 

Ling. You remember you bettee me gleaser beatee Nellie play 
pokee. You no pay btttee — Chinaman keep shirtee. 

Mike. Well, if that aii.'t a haythen all out. So, you dirty mane 
little yaller scut! for the take of two-bits you'd deprive a gintle- 
man of a change of linen, [bus.) Faith, I'll take the worth of 
thim out of your hide. Do jou wrestle ? 

Ling. Chinaman wrestle. 

Mike. Do you know Dan Dot nelly in Ireland? 

Ling. Don't know the Ilish. 

Mike. Well, I lived next door r> him. (bus.) What's the little 
yaller divil looking at? (ist rouna\ Faith, I near had him that 
time. 

Ling. Chinaman no fool ! 

Mike. Faith, ye haven't sinse enough t be a fool, (tickle bus.) 
Here, sthop yer tickling — sthop it. Coim on . if I catch him un- 
der the ucksters, I'll step on his neck and^eak his ankle. (LlNG 
gets Mike down ; puts his foot on him) 

N. B. This wrestling scene is ad lib. and ca, De arranged to suit 
the performers between themselves. 

Ling. When the shamrock he fade in the fall, t n ] a> You dead, 
Ilish? 

Mike. No, but I'm spacheless. Haythen, you do\ ne a me fair 
and square, and if ever you need a friend, call on lV;i ce Moore. 
Be gorra, if I can't down yer inemies with me fist I c&o w ith me 

tongue. , . 

Ling. All light, Ilish. Your flendship worth more than shirtee— 
come along, me give you shirtee. Exit R. \ E . 



CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 3 1 

Mike. Be the powers, when you want to down a Chinaman give 
him soap and plenty of it. Exit R. 1 e. 

Enter Herbert, down run. 

Herbert. Not here ! She told me she'd meet me here. I wonder 
where she can be ? Hiding, no doubt, to play some of her pranks. 
Oh ! Nell, Nell ! 

Enter JACK, R. u. E. 

Jack. Hunting after Nell, eh ? Why, as I come down the trail 
I saw her climbing up Crows' Cliff. And do you know, Budd, she 
don't look a bit bigger than when I first sot eyes on her. 

Herbert. How long ago was that, Jack? 

Jack. Well, as near as I can remember, it's fifteen years since 
the old man came to Blazes Bar. She was no bigger than that 
(bus. ) but just as purty as a picture. A day or two after Joe Scott 
found the big nugget — he said the little gal kicked it up with her 
little foot — he offered the Deacon half on its value, but the old 
man said it was found on Joe's claim and he would not take 
a cent's worth of it. But the boys found it out, and that and then 
they christened the little Nugget Nell, and the name has stuck to 
her ever since. 

Herbert. Jack, have you ever had any doubt as to the Deacon 
being the real father of Nell? 

Jack. Nary a doubt, unless he might have been her mother. 
Why do you ask ? 

Herbert. Because she bears such a close resemblance to the 
family in whose interest I am working. I meant to have spoken 
to the Deacon regarding her parentage, but now — by the loss of 
his reason— I am in doubt as to whether I am on the right track 
or not. 

Jack. Well, I can't say the Deacon is Nell's dad, but I know she 
has a powerful influence over him, and he's made a right pert 
miss of her. Do you know, she can read and write just like a 
schoolmarm ? But, say Budd, I come near forgetting what I 
came here to tell you. I've been commissioned by the boys a 
committee of one to inform you that this morning they nomi- 
nated you for the position of Mayor, hoping you'll accept the 
same at their hands. 

Herbert. Jack, I see your hand in this, but I cannot accept the 
honor the boys would confer upon me. I am searching for a 
child, the heiress to a large estate in the East. I have sworn to 
find her, and Jack — would you have me break my oath ? 

Jack. No pard, not for all the durned mayors in the country. 
But the boys won't let you off on that score. Why, lord bless 
you, if it's only to find a gal, the boys will turn out and search 



32 CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 

every camp for miles around. (Nell laughs, without} Why, here 
she comes now, just like a bird. 

Enter Nell, down run, with bird' 's nest, and kneels by Herbert 

on bank. 

Nell. Oh ! Budd, Budd, see what I've got — look, Jack. 

Herbert. What have you there, you little minx ? 

Nell. Don't you remember the bird I told you of that had built 
her nest on top of Crows' Cliff? Well, Bill Mulligan shot her this 
morning, and as I came along I thought of the poor little chips 
awaiting the breakfast that would never more be brought to them 
— so I just went up and got them. Ain't they cunning? 

Herbert. But my dear child, what will you do with them? 

Nell. I'll just have you to understand I'm no child, am I, Jack ! 

Jack. Not a bit of it, gal ! 

Herbert. But what can you do with them ? 

Nell. Why, I'll dig worms, and I'll catch spiders, and flies, and 
I'll 

Jack. Never you fear for the birdies, paid. It's just as natural 
for that gal to be mother to them yer birds, as it is for the 
stream to flow down yonder mountain — for ain't she a little sing- 
ing bird herself? But give me the nest, gal. I'll hunt up Ling, 
and I'll make him dig up worms and find spiders, and we'll fill 
em chock up. And say, Nell, I'm a standing in with you on this 
hand — I'm to be their godfather, you know. 

Exit R. 3 E. — Herbert crosses to R. 

Herbert. Well, Nell, I must be off to the mines. 

Nell. Going so soon ! Won't you finish that story first? It's so 
interesting, and I want to hear it ever so much. 

Herbert. Very well, [takes book from coat pocket, turns over pages, 
and then sits on bank — Nell at his side) Let me see — where were 
we? We had got to the last page, had we not? Yes, here we 
are. Now, listen. "The curtains parted, and Lord Percy stood 
before her. With a glad cry she sprang into his outstretched 
arms, and there, with her golden head pillowed on the breast of 
the man she loved — let us write — finis ! " 

Nell. Is that all? 

Herbert. Yes. How did you like it ? 

Nell. Bully ! That Leonora was a regular sticker, wasn't she? 
She stuck like a burr to the man she loved. 

Herbert. Would you do the same to the man you loved ? 

Nell. You just try me and see. Well — you see — you know — she 
— you see — she heard something about her lover's past life that 
made her miserable. My dad often told me that all men have 
secrets in their past lives. 



CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 33 

Herbert. And would you like to know something of your lover's 
past life ? 

Nell. No ; if he was leading a square one when I learned to love 
him, I would leave his past just whar it was — behind him. 

Herbert, [aside) Oh ! if I only dare tell her. Pshaw ! Well, 
good-by, Nell. I must be going. If any one calls, send them 
down to the mines. Good-by. [bus. — exit L. u. E.) 

Nell, [bus.) I don't mind admitting it to myself, but I'm awfully 
mashed on Budd, and I came near letting out on myself. I won- 
• der if he understood. I guess not. Men never do. 

Enter Mike, R. u. E. with bouquet, which he gives to Nell. 

Mike, [bus.) Ah ! there you are, me darlint. Faith, you're look- 
ing fresh and fair as these flowers I've brought ye. 

Nell. What pretty flowers, Mike ! Where did you get them? 

Mike. Faith, I got them from the Chineseman. I met him as I 
was coming along. "Where are you going with them flowers?" 
says I. " Give 'em to the Melican woman," says he. "And 
faith there is but one Melican woman in these parts worthy such 
flowers," says I. "Who am she?" says he. " Nugget Nell," 
says I. And with that I whipped them out of his hand, and there 
they are. 

Nell. Oh ! thank you, Mike. 

Mike. Don't thank me, me darlint ; you're as welcome to them 
as the morning breezes. Shure, they cost me nothing but a scrap 
with the Chineseman. But tell me, where's Budd ? 

Nell. He's gone down to the claim. 

Mike. Then I must be off at once. 

Nell. Here, hold on, Mike ; I want you to tell me something. 

Mike. Faith, but you're always wanting me to tell you some- 
thing. What is it ? 

Nell. Why does Budd wear two heads of hair? Oh! you need- 
n't look that way. I saw you and Budd talking together down at 
the pass this morning, and I saw Budd take off his top scalp. Bill 
Mulligan saw him too. Now what does it all mean? 

Mike. Me darlint, that's a secret I can't tell to a living soul. 
There's a dark cloud hanging over the poor boy's life. But, by 
the powers, we'll soon have the author of all his wrongs by the 
heels. And if Bill Mulligan saw what you said I must tell Budd, 
and I can't be any too quick. Now, that's every blessed word I 
can tell ye. So kape a still tongue in your head, or ye may spoil 
all our plans. 

Nell. Heaven be with you, Mike. 

Enter Deacon, on run — coming down. 

But see, Mike, here comes poor old dad hugging his deeds to his 
breast, as though he was a miser. 



34 CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 

Mike. Ain't you afeerd he'll lose them, Nell? 

Nell. No, he won't let them out of his sight. They are his all 
in all, though I sometimes think if he never owned Poker Flat, he 
would still be the hale hearty man he was ten years ago, and his 
mind be as strong as yours or mine. 

Mike. Well, cheer up, darlint, maybe it will be all fixed some 
day. Look on the bright side, and it may all come right in the 
end. Exit, L. u. E. 

Nell, {crosses up to Deacon) Come, dad — come along. Sit 
down here, dad, there you are. But what brines you down here, 
dad? 

Deacon. Sh ! I was just going up the claim. You know the one, 
Nell — the one that has never been worked. Gold, gold, Nell — big 
nuggets — and all for my little gal. 

Nell, {aside) Poor old dad, his mind is wandering again, {seats 
Deacon on slump up r. c,) 

Deacon. And I've got the deeds, here, Nell, see ! 

Nell. Yes, but you should be careful, dad ; you might lose them. 

Deacon. No, no. I'd sooner lose my life, my soul — my mind — 
Nell. Nell, where is it? It's gone — gone ! 

Nell. What is gone, dad ? 

Deacon. I had it just now — just now — Nell. 

Nell. What was it, dad, why don't you speak ? Oh ! you old 
dad, you — it's your pipe, ain't it? You must have dropt it on the 
road. You just stay here, dad, and I'll go look for it. Don't go 
away now. I'll be back in a few moments. 

Exit up overrun, L. 

Enter Bella and Sidney, l. 2 e. 

Bella. Sidney, are you sure this ruse will be successful? 

Sid. Yes, there is no other way. Once let me unite Gold City, 
Poker Flat and Nugget Plain into one, and I will get the position 
of Mayor — then I can snap my fingers at the rest of the world. 

Bella. But are you certain of getting the nomination ? 

Sidney. There can be no doubt of my success. My only rival 
is that Budd Bunkem, curse him! My lieutenant, Bill Mulligan, 
has everything arranged. I am positive of success ! 

Bella. Let us give up this life and return to our home in New 
York. What motive impels you to remain out here in such a dis- 
guise, among such rough and lawless people, when in New York 
we can have all that heart could wish for? 

Sidney. What motive ? I will tell you, Bella. The night I went 
to call upon Herbert Stanton to purchase those papers I was 
accompained by the law, but the fellow was armed to the teeth and 
escaped us — but not without my obtaining the documents ; which, 
on investigation, I discovered were forged. Bella, I can no longer 



CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 35 

disguise the truth ; I am, and have been for years, a ruined man 
— living off the income derived from the estate left by my cousin 
Harry, which rightfully belongs to his daughter, if living. From 
information I gleaned from Stanton's remarks on the evening in 
question I am convinced that this girl is located somewhere in 
Colorado. In view of these facts I shall leave no stone unturned 
to find her, and, if successful, assume a guardianship over her 
which will enable us to still continue the life of luxury which we 
have enjoyed in the past. 

Bella. But, Sidney 

Sidney. Hush! do not call me by that name. Here I am known 
as the wealthy Mexican, Manuel Lopez. I have gone too far to 
turn back at this late hour, especially when all I have schemed 
for is ready to drop into my outstretched hands. But here comes 
the man who is to bring me news of my nomination. Return to 
the hotel. I will join you there shortly. Exit Bella, r. i e. 

Enter Bill L. I E. 

Ah ! Bill, you bringa me news of my-a nomination? 

Bill. Nary a nom., Cap. 

Sidney. Whata you mean — speak ! 

Bill. Well, ain't I speaking? In plain English, your little game 
is busted. 

Sidney. But you told-a me you have every-a-thing arranged ! 

Bill. So I did. Some of the people kicked because you are a 
greaser ; but I soon brought them around all right, and was just 
about going into the caucus, when along came Jack Davis and 
made a speech in favor of Budd Bunkem. That settled the whole 
business. He just scooped in the entire board, shavings and all. 

Sidney. Did you not do anything to stop him? 

Bill. Well, did I ? You just ought to have seen me spread my- 
self all over that room. I thought we had everything our own 
way, so I called for a showing of hands. The only hands that 
went up in your behalf, were those belonging to the gang. 

Sidney. Curse him ! he is my Nemesis. He roba me of my 
prize — I will make him pay dearly for it. 

Bill. But, Cap, I've made a wonderful discovery ! The man 
you are longing to see is found. 

Sidney. What! you finda Herbert Stanton? 

Bill. In plain English I have. Herbert Stanton and Budd Bun- 
kem are one and the same person. 

Sidney. Good ! To-day you prove-a yourself my-a friend. But 
I have one more piece of work for you to perform. I have lost the 
nomination, but Poker Flat — that-a may yet be mine. If we had 
the deeds of it, we could develop its great wealth and realize a 
fortune for ourselves as well as for Nugget Nell. 



36 



CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 



Bill. But how are we to get those papers ? 

Sidney. The old man sits yonder; he always have the deeds with 
him. You talk-a to him. Try to buy — offer him-a big money. 

Bill. But suppose the old man's sharpness prevents him from 
selling — what then? 

Sidney. Tell-a him you will work hard to develop the claim for 
him — that you will care for the girl and see she is provided for. 

Bill. That's all very well, Cap, but suppose he won't listen to the 
proposition ? 

Sidney. When every other plan fails — kill him ! 

Bill. Hold on, Cap! 'Tis true, I've shared with you the plot- 
ting and planning of many a stage robbing ; but when it comes to a 
case of downright — murder — 1 won't, [crosses, L.) 

Sidney. You forget you are in my power. One little word from 
me and your future years would be passed behind bars and bolts. 
I have a paper you forged in my name. Did you think I had 
destroyed it? Refuse to do my work, and you go to prison. Bill, 
just think of the mine of wealth that lies hidden beneath Poker 
Flat! It should be the world's — ours ! Do as I bid you, and there 
will be no limit to your pleasures — no curb to your ambition. 

Bill. Yes, but look here ; while I don't mind tripping my feet to 
the music at a fancy ball, I can't fancy having a ball attached to 
my leg and dragging behind me. Besides, murder ! oh.no. It's 
jumping from Maine to Mexico in pretty short order. 

Sidney. Well, either you go to prison as a forger, or hold up your 
head as a millionaire — respected by all for your great wealth. 
Now is your time, Bill. The Deacon is there, and alone. Come, 
decide quick. I will leave you here with him and shall return in 
half an hour to see what you have done, [crossing to L. i e.) 

Bill. But Cap 

Sidney. I shall return in half an hour. Exit, L. I E. 

Bill. Well, here's a pretty mess. How am I to manage it? 

Deacon, [looking at documents} Nell! Nell! — gone! But they're 
mine, and I'm keeping 'em all for her, for my little Nell. 

Bill, [creeping upon Deacon) There he is now. Why, hello, 
Deacon ! — now don't be afraid. It's only me, Bill Mulligan. You 
know me. 

Deacon. Yes, I know, I know. I thought it might be some one 
come to rob me of my papers. 

Bill. It's all nonsense to think that. Why, I don't think any one 
could have the heart to rob you of your papers. You know I'm 
solid. You can trust to my friendship. 

Deacon. Friendship! friendship! ah! ha! ha! No, no — I 
know, I know. The world is full of thieves — thieves. 

Bill. You're about right, Deacon. Do you know, I was thinking 
this morning that you ought to have some one whom you could 
trust to take charge of your claim for you — to work it up, and get 



CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 37 

out of it all they could. And while we're talking of it, why not 
let me do it? Why, I'd have that claim in working order in less 
than a jiffy. You don't know me! 

Deacon. No, I don t know you — I don't know you — but I know 
the wealth that lies under Poker Flat; Audit's all mine, mine, 
and my little gal's. 

Bill. Then you're foolish not to bring it to the surface, Deacon. 
You let me have the papers, and I'll work the claim for you. 
Come, what do you say ? 

Deacon. Give up my papers! Give them up to you ! I'd rather 
part with my life, my soul, my brains! 

Bill. Oh, come, give over with that nonsense. Let me have the 
papers, do you hear? Give them to me. Give them up to me, I 
say, or I'll — {draws knife, seizes Deacon, throws him doivn on his 
knees and is a-bout to knife him, when Nell enters tip L., and comes 
betiueen them catching Bill's hand ) 

Nell. Why, Bill, what were you about to do ? You were going 
to rob this old man of all he had in the world — the deeds to his 
claim. You would have killed him. 

Bill. Well, he's crazy. What good are they to him ? 

Nell. What good would they be to him if he were dead ? Bill 
Mulligan, have you a father? If so, picture to yourself this poor, 
helpless old man, weak in mind and body — strong in nothing save 
love for his child — thrown to the earth by an assassin's hand raised 
to strike him dead. Bill Mulligan, are you that man? 

Bill. Nell, Nell, for Heaven's sake, say no more. I was not 
myself. I was under the influence of — of the devil. In a moment 
of weakness I was about to commit a crime I would have repented 
all my life. But be careful, Nell, for there are those here of whom 
your father is in constant danger of his life. 

Nell. Bill, what do you mean ? 

Bill. Simply that there are those who are plotting for and deter- 
mined to gain possession of your father's claim, and they will stop 
at nothing to gain their point. But now that you have shown me 
what a miserable coward I am, I will try and be a friend to you 
and your father. 

Nell. Bill, you make me frightened for the first time in my life. 
I must go and find Budd and the boys, and get them to protect me 
and dad. Bill, can I trust you with him now ? 

Bill. Can you trust me, Nell ? Were he my own father of 
whom you spoke but a moment ago, his life would not be more 
sacred. Would that I could make you believe it ! 

Nell. I do believe you, Bill, and I will trust you. (shakes Bill's 
hand) You watch dad, and I'll soon be back with the boys. 

Exit over run, L. 

Bill. What is a world of wealth compared to a clear conscience ? 



38 CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 

I begin to feel like a new man. My last piece of villainy has been 
done ! From now on I mean to lead an honest life, [down R. ) 

Re-enter Sidney, l. i e. 

Sidney. Well, has the deed been done ? Have you the papers ? 
where are they ? 

Bill. Where they belong — in the hands of their rightful owner ; 
and, by the help of Heaven, they shall stay there. 

Sidney. What do you-a mean ? 

Bill. That 1 refuse to do any more of your dirty work. A few 
minutes ago I was about to murder a poor old man, but Heaven 
stayed my hand. And now, Manuel Lopez, no harm shall come 
to that old man while I am here. 

Sidney. So, you would turn protector, eh ? 

Bill. Yes, if need be, with my life. 

Sidney. Then I will kill him. [draws pistol) 

Bill. You'll have to kill me first, [crosses up C.) 

Sidney. Vera well, so be it. [shoots Bill who falls) So, the fool 
would turn traitor ! He has paid dearly for it. Now then to 
secure the papers, and silence this witness to my crime, [draws 
knife, and springs upon Deacon — enter Herbert, l. u. e. ) 

Herbert. What would you do, coward ? Strike down in cold 
blood this old man? (sees Bill) Bill Mulligan dead! Who has 
done this ? 

Sidney. That old-a man did it — I saw him ! 

Herbert. Liar ! he is as innocent of the crime as myself. You 
are the guiltier of the two, and as captain of the vigilance com- 
mittee, I arrest you for the crime, (moves toward Sidney) 

Sidney. Arrest me ! Do so, and that moment I will denounce 
you as Herbert Stanton, convict and felon, (speaks in natural 
voice) 

Herbert. That voice! Sidney Woodvvord!— At last we meet on 
equal grounds. Here, under the blue arch of Heaven, it must be 
either your life or mine. I have suffered the tortures of imprison- 
ment, borne the life of an exile, endured the loss of home and 
friends — all through you. 

Sidney. Let us not waste words, for I see your object. You hope 
to keep me here till your friends arrive to save you. Coward, 
defend yourself! 

Knife combat, at the end of which, SIDNEY gets HERBERT down 
and is about to knife him — enter Nell down run with rife which 
she points at Sidney. 

Nell, (half down run) Back, Manuel Lopez, or I'll fill you 
full of holes. 



CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 39 

Enter Jack, Mike, Joe, Ling, etc., from l. u. e., dawn run. 

Omnes. What's the matter ? 

Sidney [dawn R.) It means this old-a man kill Bill Mulligan. I 
leave-a them together. When I return in half an hour the old-a 
man stand over Bill with the pistol in his hand. 



POSITIONS. 



r. R. C. 



L. C. L. 



Sidney Herbert. Nell. Jack. Mike. 

Deacon. Ling. Joe. 

Nell. Oh, dad, dad, you didn't do it, did you? 

Sidney. He thinks everabody wants to rob him of his deeds. 
He's a maniac, a . . ... 

Nell Yes but not a murderer, Manuel Lopez. This crime will 
come to light some day, and the only witness to it will not judge 
the guiltless. 

Sidney. There was no witness ! ■ 

Nell. Yes, there was— up thar ! {points) before whom, some 
day, you will have to stand face to face ! 

PICTURE. 
QUICK CURTAN. 



ACT 111. 



Scene. Handsome chamber — Joe discovered reading book on sofa 

r. — Mike discovered at desk up l. 

Joe. Thou art right, Shakespeare ; this world is but a stage on 
which man plays many parts. Three years ago I was but an hum- 
ble follower of thy histrionic art, and now— here I sit in my own 
home, rich, influential and honored ; the beloved spouse of a 
woman whose head for business makes her the envy of every spec- 
ulator in the land ; while I possess almost enough of the filthy 
lucre to buy up every theatre on the American continent, [rising) 
Mike, I am about to take my diurnal peregrination. Should any 
one desire to ascertain my whereabouts impart to them the desired 
information, with my compliments, (strides off K. 3 e.) 

Mike. Begorra, here's a transformation for yer. From a sore- 



40 CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 

footed, ill dressed, empty stomached rag-a-muffin av a miner, I'm 
changed into a well fed, iligantly dressed son of Erin, and Lord 
High Guardian av the prettiest little girl in the mountains — Nug- 
get Nell. Sure, it's a fine job, this. Joe gives me his orders in 
the morning, and I give them in return to the different servants. 
Sure it's glad I am for Nell, for the goold we found in " Crawford's 
Claim," on Poker Flat, put the ould man in a good Asylum, where 
he is rapidly coming back to his senses again. And then the 
changes I've seen since I kem from New York! The day the 
ould man was accused of killing Mulligan the greaser escaped and 
hasn't been seen since. The ould man disappeared for a week 
afterwards, and so did the body of Bill Mulligan. We all thought 
the Deacon had been killed by the road agents, but one day he 
walked in talking about his papers, just the same as ever. And 
poor Budd ! We received news that he had been shot down from 
behind by the greaser, and his body lost. Well, well, well, how 
time does bring about many, many changes. But I am a bit bet- 
ter for the transformation. I'm boss av the house, guardian of 
Nugget Nell, chief av the kitchen, and general mogul av the whole 
establishment. But talking av changes, mine is nothing compared 
to Nell's — Heaven bless her. From a little brown faced, moun- 
tain climbing child av the Sierras, she has grown into a city belle, 
with trains to her dresses a yard long. Faith, she's a little angel, 
so she is. But if I'm not an angel, begorra, I'm a regular Irish 
gintleman of leisure. (Ling rushes on crying, c. D. ) What the divil 
are you making all that racket about? Will you niver larn to 
behave like a gintleman ? 

Ling, (r.) Me allee blokee up. 

Mike. Thin go git a hammer and some nails and mend yourself. 
Go out into the backyard, or the kitchen, and don't come around 
here blathering. What's the matter with you anyway? What 
did you run against ? 

Enter ABIGAIL, C. 

Abigail. This ! [brandishing rolli?is; pin — Ling rims behind sofa, 

R -) .... 

Abigail. He was down in the - kitchen upsetting everything with 

his nasty disagreeable ways. I can't stand it any longer, and I 

won't — there ! 

Mike, [suppressing laughter) See here, haythen, why don't you 
come from behind the sofy and listen to the lady ? 

Ling. Me hear allee same. No likee pie club. 

Mike. What's he been doing, Mrs. Bowers? 

Abigail. What's he been doing? What hasn't he been doing ? 
I don't see what earthly use he is anyway. He actually came into 
the kitchen and insisted on my allowing him to make the beef 
stew. 



CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 4 1 

Mike. Stop the procaydings ! Oh-! you yaller Mongolian thafe 
av the world, you. Mrs. Bowers — Mrs. Bowers, on your word of 
honor as a lady, tell me — did he succeed ? 

Abigail. No, I put a stop to that just in time. 

Mike. Thank Heaven ! the country's saved — no, I mean the stew 
is saved. Say, haythen, I thought you had given up your evil 
ways ? 

Abigail. What do you mean, Mr. Moore ? 

Mike. Sure, we've had a narrow escape. Let that Chinaman do 
anything in the world, but as you value your life, kape him away 
from the stew pot. 

Abigail. Why, Mr. Moore? 

Mike. Sure, I once set down to a stew av that Chinaman's mak- 
ing, and right in the middle av the dish, what do you think I 
found ? 

Abigail. What? 

Mike. The remains av an ould rat ! And when I asked the 
haythen for an explanation, he said the beef was all gone, and 
that the ould rat meat was just as good. 

Ling. Allee samee — allee samee ! 

Mike. Do ye hear that? He's not converted yet, the haythen ! 

Abigail. Miss Elena said he could iron, so I gave him the ma- 
terial and set him to work, and the first thing I knew he was 
sprinkling water from his mouth all over our clean table linen. 

Mike. Oh, that's nothing, Mrs. Bowers, when you get used to it. 
They all do that ! 

Abigail. They sha'n't do it in this house, while I'm its mistress, 
and that has to be understood, and don't you forget it. (Ling 
laughs) Oh, you needn't giggle, I mean it! 

Mike. We assume the fact of your proprietorship, and I'll not 
argue the question. But is that the full extent av your grievances, 
Mrs. Bowers ? 

Abigail. No, that is not all. I made him leave the ironing alone. 
I then went to change, preparatory to doing the ironing myself, 
and when I returned to the kitchen I found him drawing my pic- 
ture on the kitchen wall with a piece of charcoal. When I in- 
quired what he meant, he had the audacity to tell me he was 
mashed on me. 

Mike. Begorra, he ought to get six months ! 

Abigail. Mr. Moore ! 

Mike. That is, for presuming to delineate with charcoal the fay- 
tures av so a charming a lady, {bell rings without l. ) Ling, attend 
to that bell. Exit Ling, C. to L. 

Abigail. Mr. Moore, I am astonished to think that you, in the 
presence of that beastly Chinaman, would endeavor to sting me 
with your sarcasm. 

Mike. Divil a bit av sarcasm, Mrs. Bovvers. You certainly are 



42 CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 

a charming woman. Your conversational powers are something 
wonderful, and you never could be downed in a debate. In talk- 
ing you're almost aquil to myself. Now why shouldn't we 

Abigail. What, sir ? 

Mike. Why couldn't we arrange — to 

Abigail. What, sir ? 

Mike. Arrange to unite our conversational and argumentative 
abilities, and make — a — a 

Abigail. What, sir? 

Mike. A H. T.- — a whole team, or a — a holy terror? 

Abigail. Why, Mr. Moore, 1 am surprised ! 

Jack, {without L. of C. ) In this room, Ling? 

Ling, [same) Yah. First door lightee. 

Enter Jack, C./rom L. 

Mike. What ! Jack Davis ! 

Jack. Why, hello, Mike ! How are you, my boy ? 

Mike. First rate, Jack. How are you, and where did you come 
from ? 

Abigail. Mr. Moore, who is this person ? 

Mike. Don't you know ? This is Jack Davis — Jack Davis, of 
Poker Flat. 

Jack. Povv'ful glad to see you again, mum. [crosses; shakes hands 
-with Abigail) 

Abigail. You're just as rough as ever, you old bear ! {going up) 

Jack. Don't run away, mum, don't run away. You needn't be 
afeerd. 

Abigail. Oh, I'm not afraid, {looks off C.) 

Mike. Jack, I understand you've been abroad. 

Jack. Yes. I've been clar to England and back. 

Mike. To England, have you ? Well, how's Ireland ? 

Jack. Oh, she's thar yet. 

Mike. Faith, she always will be, Heaven bless her. But, I say, 
Jack, ain't you back in a hurry ? 

Jack. Wal, you see, I had an estate left me over thar, so I went 
to look arter it; but finding things kinder dull I sold out the hull 
affair and started for here again. But while in New York, I stopt 
over a few days on a little affair of Budd's. 

Mike. Poor Budd ! It was a murderin' shame that he came to 
an untimely end, and all through that miserable greaser. 

Jack. Wal, that derned greaser was just about as black as they 
make 'em, warn't he? Will you excuse me for a moment, Mis. 
Bowers, while I whisper in Mike's ear ? {whispers to Mike.) 

Mike. Powers av marcy ! You don't tell me ! {going up C.) 

Jack. It's the truth, Mike. But don't leave me here alone with 
Mrs. Bowers. She might get hugged by this old bear. (Nell 
laughs without, R of c.) Great catamount, Mike what ar that? 



CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 43 

Mike. That's Nell. Don't ye know her voice? 

Jack. Wal, I orter. [going up C.) 

Abigail, [stops Jack) Here, you can't see her now, Mr. Davis, 
she's trying on a new dress. 

Jack. Wal, consarn it! I want to see the new dress, too. 

Abigail. She is invisible until she enters this room. I will go and 
inform her she is wanted in the parlor. Exit, c and R. 

Jack. Great Scott! but I'm just a dyin' to sot eyes on that ar 
gal! 

Mike. Faith, you wouldn't know her. She's just returning from 
the seminary, and I tell ye what it is, Jack, she has blossomed into 
a fashionable young lady. But, ould boy, you've taken us by 
surprise, so I'll just go and see there's a room got ready for ye. 
(Nell laughs) Here she comes, the darlint. You just hide behind 
there, Jack, and give her a bit av surprise. 

Exit Mike. — Jack gets behind screen up R. 

Enter Nell, C. d. from R., in train dress that gets tangled in her 
feet ; in I >ying to gel free from train, she gels much confused. 

Nell. (l. ) Gracious ! how am I to get out of it ? 

Jack, [appearing ) Why, jump out, gal ! 

Nell. Jack Davis, you old darling, where did you come from ? 
(going up to him \ 

Jack, [puts up one foot, stopping her) Put on the brakes, gal, or 
you'll go all to smash. 

Nell. Oh, I'm so glad to see you ! Mike said you'd gone to 
England ! 

Jack. So I did, gal, but I found most of my old chums dead and 
gone. Besides, I missed the one bright face thar, gal, without 
which things seemed kind of dark and dreary. 

Nell. Bless you, Jack. 

Jack, [sits on sofa, Nei.l beside him) And since the old man's 
mind left him, it occurred to me as how you orter to have some 
one near you to whom you could look up to like a father — and who 
had a better right than old Jack Davis? 

Nell. Thank you, Jack. But poor old dad will soon be better 
or worse, dear friend. I have recently received a letter from the 
asylum where he has been for treatment, saying that he is perfect- 
ly rational, and nearly well enough to be restored to liberty, so I 
have written to have him sent here to this house, for I feel that 
whatever care he may now need can best be given by the little, 
girl he loved so dearly. 

Jack. You did just right, Nell, and I'll be tickled to death to see 
the old man again. But great catamount, gal, what a beautiful 
young lady you've grown to be ! You must be the happiest wo- 
man in the hull world ! 



44 CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 

Nell. No, no, Jack, not that. I was happy and contented until 
I learned to know 

Jack. What love was, eh, gal ? Oh, I guessed your secret. So 
you did love poor Budd alter all. 1 thought so. It war too derned 
bad he war shot, warn't it ? 

Nell. Don't, don't, Jack, I can't stand it ! 

Jack. Thar, forgive me, gal. I wouldn't pain you for the hull 
world. But suppose Budd warn't shot arter all, but was only 
playin' possum on the greaser ? 

Herbert appears at c. D. 

Nell. Jack, what do — (sees Budd — rushes into his arms) Oh, 
Budd, Budd, is it really you ? 

Herbert. Yes, it is really I, for, as you see, I was not killed by 
the cowardly shot fired at me by Manuel Lopez, but like Lord 
Percy, in the story of Leonora, I have come back to claim the 
woman I love. As Jack says, I was only playing possum on the 
greaser. But to-night, in this house, I will stand face to face with 
the man who has so basely wronged me ; and 1 have proofs enough 
to fully exonerate me. 

Ling enters C, with card on tray, which he presents to Nell. 

Nell. Budd, what does this mean ? 

Jack. It means the circus are about to begin. Budd, you just go 
in that room thar. (Budd retires, L. 3 E.) Now, Nell, let Ling show 
the varmint in here, and I'll step aside so's I kin keep an eye on 
the critter, [retires behind screen) 

Nell. Show the gentleman in, Ling, (exit Ling, c. D.) There is 
a crisis in my life approaching — I feel it. (down L.) 

Enter Ling C. D., bowing in Sidney, who gives Ling his hat, coat 
and cane which are donned by Ling who struts outc— Nell 
turns toward Sidney. 

Sidney, (starts) Nugget Nell, by all that's holy ! 

Nell. To what am I indebted for the honor of this visit? 

Sidney. I received a note this morning asking me to call at this 
house. You, no doubt, will recognize the handwriting, (gives 
Nell note) 

Nell. No, sir, I do not recognize it. 

Sidney, (r.) Then who could have written it? 

Herbert, (appearing) I did ! 

Sidney. Herbert Stanton, alive ! 

Herbert. Yes, alive. I was not killed by the cowardly shot you 
fired. Instead, I have followed you like a sleuth hound ever since. 



CRAWFORD S CLAIM. 45 

I have eaten at the same table, slept beneath the same roof, and 
yet you knew me not. Disguised as a mountain guide, I 
stood by when you sent your unsuspecting wife to an untimely 
grave — 'twas I who laid her lifeless body at your feet. Sidney 
Woodward, you once sent me to prison for a crime of which I was 
utterly innocent. I now turn the tables, for I have evidence 
enough in my possession to hang you. 

Sidney. You have woven your web well, but it won't do. Where 
are your proofs ? 

Enter Mike, c. d. 

Mike. Is it proofs the' blackguard wants ? Faith, we've barrels 
av thim, with big lumps av ice on each barrel to kape it fresh. 
Shure, we've proofs enough to flood the court house. 

Sidney. Well, Herbert Stanton, or whatever your name may be, 
this is a very cleverly concocted scheme. But denounce me if 
you dare. In return, I will denounce you as an escaped convict 
— a felon ! 

Jack, {comes down) Wrong again, Greaser, and this document 
proves that I speak the truth, [gives document to Herbert) 

Herbert. What is this — a pardon ? 

Jack. Wal, that's about the size of it. You see, when I was in 
New York, I saw the Governor, and after a little talk about you, 
he remembered of a pardon having been granted one Herbert 
Stanton, based on the confession of a prisoner, who had died at 
Sing Sing. So he hunted up the pardon, gave it to me, and I've 
kept it for just this moment. 

Herbert. Jack, how can I ever repay you ? 

Jack. By saying nothing about it. (talks aside with Mike, L.) 

Sidney. And now, I suppose, you have discovered the real 
heiress to the estate ? 

Herbert. I have. Allow me to present her to you in the person 
of Nugget Nell. 

Sidney. 'Tis false as hell ! 

Enter Deacon, c. d. 

Deacon. 'Tis true as Heaven ! 

Nell. Dad ! and in his right mind ! {runs into Deacon's arms) 
Deacon. Yes, my darling, reason has returned, and I am a man 
again. Sidney Woodward, it was I who married poor Mary Bar- 
ton to one Harry Wilson, otherwise Woodward ; and when Mary 
found herself a deserted wife, and about to die, she sent for me, 
and placing in my aims this dear girl — then an infant but a few 
weeks old — asked me to be a father to her. I promised her I 



46 CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. 

would, and in all the years that have come and gone, I have been 
a good faithful friend to her. 

Sidney. The scheme works admirably, but I defy you all. Who 
will take the word of this old imbecile, whose hands are stained 
with the blood of Bill Mulligan ? 

Enter BlLL, C. D. 

Bill. Hold on thar, Cap, you're a little too fast. 

Sidney. Alive ! The devil ! I thought you dead. 

Bill. Your shot was a pretty close one, but a week's nursing 
from the old Deacon, and the aid of Mulligan's infallible reme- 
dies, soon restored me to health again. 

Jack, {crossing to Sidney) Wal, Greaser, your time is up. 

Mike. I should say it was run down. 

Herbert. We are sorry to be deprived of your charming society. 

Enter Two Officers, c. d. 

Sidney. And it pains me to know you are all feeling so well. I 
bid you farewell, and am sorry you are not going in the same di- 
rection as myself. ( points down and exit c, with Officers) 

Mike, (looking off C.) Take care of him, for he has a slippery 
tongue and a slippery heel. There's one good job off our hands. 
But now, Deacon, that everything's explained, and the mystery 
surrounding Budd and Nell cleared up, the marriage tie is next in 
order. 

Deacon. Nothing would give me greater pleasure. 

Herbert. But what are we to do with our friends here ? 

Nell, (to audience) We'll ask them to our wedding, and you'll 
come too, won't you? You'll always find a hearty welcome 
awaiting you at Poker Flat. 



Jack. Budd. Nell. Deacon. Mike. 

R. R. C. C L. C L. 





POSITIONS . 


Budd. 


Nell. Deacon 


r. c. 


c. L. c. 




CURTAIN. 






SAVED FROM THE WRECK. 

A DRAMA IN THREE ACTS, BY THOMAS K. SERRANO. 
PRICE, 15 CENTS. 

Eight male, three female characters : Leading comedy, juvenile man, genteel 
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lady, leading comedy lady and old woman. Two interior and one landscape scenes. 
Modern costumes. Time of playing, two hours and a half. The scene of the action 
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up to the final tableau. 

SYNOPSIS OF INCIDENTS. 

Act I. The Home of thk Light-house Keeper. — An autumn afternoon. 

The insult. — True to herself. — A fearless he^rt. —The unwelcome guest. — Only a 
foundling. — An abuse of confidence. — The new partner. — The compact. — The dead 
brought to life. — Saved from the wreck. — Legal advice. — Married for money.— A 
g 'den chance. — The intercepted letter. — A vision of wealth. — The forgery. — Within 
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Act II. Scene as bhfork; time, night.— Dark clouds gathering.— Changing 
the jackets. — Father and son. — On duty. — A struggle for fortune. — Loved for himself. 
—The divided greenbacks. — The agreement. — An unhappy life. — The detective's mis- 
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accident. — "Will she be saved ? " — Latour's bravery. — A noble sacrifice. — The secret 
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Act III. Two Days Later. — Plot and counterplot.— Gentleman and convict. — 
The price of her life. — Some new documents. — The divided banknotes. — Sunshine 
through the clouds. — Prepared for a watery grave — Deadly peril. — Fatherand daugh- 
ter. — The rising tide. — A life for a signature. — True unto death. — Saved. — The mys- 
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BETWEEN TWO FIRES. 

A COMEDY-DRAMA IN THREE ACTS, BY THOMAS K. SERRANO. 

PRICE, 15 CENTS. 

Eight male, three female, and utility characters: Leading juvenile man, first and 
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SYNOPSIS OF INCIDENTS. 

Act I. At Fort Lee, on the Hudson. — News from the war. — The meeting. 
— The colonel's strange romance. — Departing for the war. — The intrusted packet. — An 
honest man. — A last request. — Bitter hatred. — The dawn of love. — A northerner's 
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Financial agents. — A brother's wrong. — An order to cross the enemy's lines. — For- 
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dowed life. — Beggared in pocket, and bankrupt in love. — His last chance. — The re- 
fusal. — Turned from home. — Alone, without a name — Off to the war. — Tableau. 

Act II. On the Battlefield. — An Irishman's philosophy.— Unconscious of 
danger. — Spies in the camp. — The insult. — Risen from the ranks. — The colonel's prej- 
udice. — Letters from hone. — The plot to ruin. — A token of love. — True to him. — 
The plotters at work. — Breaking the seals. — The meeting of husband and wife. — A 
forlorn hope. — Doomed as a spy. — A struggle for lost honor. — A soldier's death.— 
Tableau. 

Act III. Before Richmond. — The home of Mrs. De Mori. — The two docu- 
ments. — A little misunderstanding. — A deserted wife. — The truth revealed. — Brought 
to light. — Mother and child. — Rowena's sacrifice. — The American Eagle spreads his 
wings. — The spider's web. — True to himself. — The reconciliation. — A long divided 
home reunited. — The close of the war. — Tableau. 



' ' Cofiift mailed, postpaid ', to any address, on receipt 0/ the annexed prices,. 



UNCLE TOM'S CABIN (NEW version.) 

A MELODRAMA IN FIVE ACTS, BY CHAS. TOWNSEND. 
PRICE, 1 5 CENTS. 

Seven male, five female characters (some of the characters play two parts). 
Time of playing, 2j^ hours. This is a new acting edition of a prime old favorite, 
so simplified in the stage-setting as to be easily represented by dramatic clubs and 
travelling companies with limited scenery. Uncle Tom's Cabin is a play that never 
grows old ; being pure and faultless, it commands the praise of the pulpit and sup- 
port of the press, while it enlists the favor of all Christians and heads of familial. It 
will draw hundreds where other plays draw dozens, and therefore is sure to fill any hal'. 

Synopsis of Incidents: Act I. — Scene I. — The Shelby plantation in Kentucky. — 
George and Eliza. — The curse of Slavery. — The resolve. — Off for Canada. — " I won't 
be taken — I'll die first." — Shelby ?nd Haley. — Uncle Tom and Harry must be sold. — 
The poor mother. — "Sell my boy!" — The faithful slave. Scene II. — Gumption 
Cute. — "By Gum-" — Marks, the lawyer. — A rp»d Yankee. — George in disguise. — A- 
friend in need. — The human bloodhounds. — The escape. — " Hooray fer old Var- 
mount ! " 

Act II. — St. Clare's elegant home. — The fretful wife. — The arrival. — Little Eva. — 
Aunt Ophelia and Topsy. — " O, Golly! I'se so wicked!" — St. Clare's opinion. — 
" Benighted innocence." — The stolen gloves. — Topsy in her glory. 

Act III. — The angel child. — Tom and St. Clare. — Topsy's mischief. — Eva's re- 
quest. — The promise. — pathetic scene. — Death of Eva. — St. Clare's grief. — "For thou 
art gone forever." 

Act IV. — The lonely house. — Tom and St. Clare. — Topsy's keepsake. — Deacon 
Perry and Aunt Ophelia. — Cute on deck. — A distant relative. — The hungry visitor. — 
Chuck full of emptiness." — Cute and the Deacon. — A row. — A fight. — Topsy to the 
rescue. — St. Clare wounded. — Death of St. Clare. — "Eva — Eva — I am coming " 

Act V. — Legree's plantation on the Red River. — Home again. — Uncle Tom's 
noble heart. — " My soul ain't yours, Mas'r." — Legree'scruel work. — Legree and Cassy. 
— The whiteslave. — A frightened brute. — Legree's fear. — A life of sin. — Marks and 
Cute. — Anew scheme. — The dreadful whipping of Uncle Tom.— Lcgrcc punished at 
last,— Death of Uncle Tom. — Eva in Heaven. 



THE WOVEN WEB. 

A DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS, BY CHAS. TOWNSEND. 
PRICE, 15 CENTS. 

Seven male, three female characters, viz. : leading and second juvenile men, so- 
ciety villain, walking gentleman, eccentric comedian, old man, low comedian, leading 
juvenile lady, soubrette and old woman. Time of playing, ?\{ hours. The Woven Web 
is a flawless drama, pure in thought and action, with excellent charac.ers, and pre- 
senting no difficulties in costumes or scenery. The story is captivating, with a plot 
of the most intense and unflagging intere:-t, rising to a natural climax of wonderful 
power. The wit is bright and sparkling, the action terse, sharp and rapid. In touch- 
ing the great chord of human sympathy, the author has expended that rare skill 
which has given life to every great play known to the stage. This play has been 
produced under the author's management with marked success, and will prove 
an unquestionable attraction wherever presented. 

Synopsis or Incidents: Act I.— Parkhurst & Manning's law office, New York. 
— Tim's opinion. — The young lawyer. — " Majah Billy Toby, sah ! " — Love and law. 
— Bright prospects. — Bertha's mi-fortune. — A false friend. — The will destroyed. — A 
cunning plot. — Weaving the web. — The unseen witness. — The letter. — Accused. — 
Dishonored. 

Act II. — Winter quarters. — Colonel Hastings and Sergeant Tim. — Moses. — A 
message. — Tim on his dignity. — The arrival. — Playing soldier. — The secret. — The 
promise. — Harry in danger. — Love and duty. — The promise kept. — " Saved, at the 
loss of my own honor ! " 

Act III. — Drawing-room at Falconer's. — Reading the news. — "Apply to Judy !" 
— Louise's romance. — Important news. — Bertha's fears. — Leamington s arrival. — 
Drawing the web. — Threatened. — Plotting. — Harry and Bertha. — A fiendish lie. — Face 
to face. — " Do you know him ? " — Denounced. — "Your life shall be the penalty!" — 
Startling tableau. 

Act IV. — At Uncle Toby's. — A wonderful climate. — An impudent rascal. — A bit 
of history. — Woman's wit. — Toby Indignant. — A quarrel. — Uncle Toby's evidence. — 
Leamington's last trump.— Good news. — Checkmated. — The telegram. — Breaking 
the web. — Sunshine at last. 

Copies mailed, postpaid, to any address, on receipt of the annexed prices. J0k 



.ROORBACH'S AMERICAN EDITION.— Continued, 

25. MURDER WILL OUT. A farce in one act. Six female characters. Time, 
thirty minutes. 

26. APRIL FOOLS. A farce in one act. Three male characters. Time, thirty 
minutes. 

27. OLD CRONIES. A comedietta in one act. Two male characters. Time, 
thirty minutes. 

28. CUT OFF WITH A SHILLING. A comedietta in one act. Two male, one 
female characters. Time, forty-five minutes. 

29. A CASE FOR EVICTION. A comedietta in one act. One male, two female 
characters. Time, thirty minutes. 

30. A HAPPY PAIR. A comedietta in one act. One male, one female characters. 
Time, forty-five minutes. 

31. UNCLE'S WILL. A comedietta in one act. Two male, one female charac- 
ters. Time, thirty minutes. 

32. POPPING THE QUESTION. A farce in one act. Two male, four female 
characters. Time, forty minutes. 

33. THAT RASCAL PAT. A farce in one act. Three male, two female charac- 
ters. Time, thirty minutes. 

34. SOLON SHINGLE. A comedy in two acts. Seven male, two female charac- 
ters. Time, one hour and a half. 

3i. NOT SUCH A FOOL AS HE LOOKS. A comedy in three acts. Five 
male, four female characters. Time, two hours and a half. 

36. OUR BOYS. A comedy in three acts. Six male, four female characters. Time, 
two hours. 

37. CASTE. A comedy in three acts. Five male, three female characters. Time, 
two hours and half. 

38. HOME. A comedy in three acts. Four male, three female characters. Time, 
two hours. 

39. MEG'S DIVERSION. A drama in two acts. Five male, three female charac- 
ters. Time, one hour and three quarters. 

40. MIRIAM'S CRIME. A drama in three acts. Five male, three female charac- 
ters. Time, two hours. 

41. BY FORCE OF IMPULSE. A drama in three acts. Nine male, three female 
characters. Time, two hours and a half. 

42. BETWEEN TWO FIRES. A comedy-drama in three acts. Eight male, 
three female characters. Time, two hours and a half. 

43. SAVED FROM THE WRECK. A drama in three acts. Eight male, three 
female characters. Time, two hours and a half. 

44. A LESSON IN ELEGANCE. A comedietta in one act. Four female charac- 
ters. Time, thirty minutes. 

45. WANTED, A CONFIDENTIAL CLERK. A farce in one act. Six 
male characters. Time, thirty minutes. 

46. THE TRIPLE WEDDING. A drama in three acts. Four male, four female 
characters. Time, one hour and a quarter. 

47. SECOND SIGHT; OR, YOUR FORTUNE FOR A DOLLAR. A farce 
in one act. Four male, one female characters. Time, one hour. 

48. UNDER A CLOUD. A comedy-drama in two acts. Five male, two female 
characters. Time, one hour and a half. 

40. STRIFE. A comedy-drama in four acts. Nine male, four female characters. 
Time, two hours and a quarter. 

50. TRIED AND TRUE. A drama in three acts. Eight male, three female char- 
ters. Time, two hours and a quarter. 

51. CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. A drama in prologue and three acts. Nine male, 
three female characters. Time, two hours and a quarter. 

52. TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR ROOM. New Copyright Version. A drama 
in five acts. Seven male, four female characters. Time, two hours. 

$2&~ Any of the above will be sent by mail, post-taiu.^ ;c any address, on receipt 
of the price. 

HAROLD ROORBACH, Publisher, 9 Murray St., New York. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



016 102 813 7 

TOWNSEND'S 

44 AMATEUR THEATRICALS/' 



A Practical Guide for Amateur Actors. 



PRICE, 25 CENTS. 

This work, without a rival in the field of dramatic literature, covers the entire sub- 
ject of amateur acting, and answers the thousand and one questions that arise constantly 
to worry and perplex both actor and manager. It tells how to select plays and what 
plays to select ; how to get up a dramatic club— whom to choose and whom to avoid ; 
how to select characters, showing who should assume particular roles; hew to rehearse 
a play properly — including stage business, by-play, voice, gestures, action, etc.; how to 
represent all the passions and emotions, from Love to Hate (this chapter is worth many 
times the price of the book, as the same information cannot be found in any similar 
work); how to costume modern plays. All is told in such a plain, simple style that 
the veriest tyro can understand. The details are so complete and the descriptions so 
clear that the most inexperienced can follow them readily. The book is full ol breezy 
anecdotes that illustrate different points. But its crowning merit is that it is thoroughly 
practical — it is the resultof the author's long experience as an actor and manager. 
Every dramatic club in the land should possess a copy of this book, and no actor can 
■afford to be without it. It contains so much valuable information that even old stagers 
will consult it with advantage. 

HELMER'S 

ACTOR'S MAKE-UP BOOK. 

A Practical and Systematic Guide to the A rt of Making up for the Stage. 

PRICE, 25 CENTS. 

Facial make-up has much to do with an actor's success. This manual is a perfect 
■encyclopedia of a branch of knowledge most essential to all players. It is well written, 
systematic, exhaustive, practical, unique. Professional and amateur actors and act- 
resses alike pronounce it thb best make-up book ever published. It is simply indis 
pensable to those who cannot command the services of a perruquier. 

CONTENTS. 

Chapter I. Theatrical Wigs.— The Style and Form of Theatrical Wigs and 
Beards. The Color and Shading of Theatrical Wigs and Beards. Directions for 
Measuring the Head. To put on a Wig properly. 

Chapter II. Theatrical Beards. — How to fashion a Beard out of Crepe Hair. 
How to make Beards of Wool. The growth of Beard simulated. 

Chapter III. The Make-up.— A successful Character Mask, and how to make it. 
Perspiration during performance, how removed. 

Chapter IV. The Make-up Box.— Grease Paints. Grease Paints in Sticks ; Flesh 
Cream ; Face Powder ; How to use Face Powder as a Liquid Cream ; The various shades 
of Face Powder. Water Cosmetique. Nose Putty. Court Plaster. Cocoa Butter. 
Crepe Hair and Prepared Wool. Grenadine. Dorin's Rouge. " Old Man's" Rouge. 
*' Juvenile" Rouge. Spirit Gum. Email Noir. Bear's Grease. Eyebrow Pencils. 
Artist's Stomps. Powder Puffs. Hare's Feet. Camel's-hair Brushes. 

Chapter V. The Features and their Treatment. — The Eyes: Blindness. The 
Eyelids. The Eyebrows : How to paint out an eyebrow or mustache ; How to paste 
on eyebrows ; How to regulate bushy eyebrows. The Eyelashes : To alter the appear- 
ance of the eyes. The Ears. The Nose : A Roman nose ; How to use the nose putty ; 
a pug nose ; an African nose ; a large nose apparently reduced in size. The Mouth 
and Lips : a juvenile mouth ; an old mouth ; a sensuous mouth ; a satirical mouth ; a 
one-sided mouth ; a merry mouth ; a sullen mouth. The Teeth. The Neck, Arms, 
Hands and Finger-nails : Finger-nails lengthened. Wrinkles: Friendliness and Sullen- 
ness indicated by wrinkles. Shading. A Starving Character. A Cut in the Face. A 
Thin Face made Fleshy. 

Chapter VI. Typical Character Masks. — The Make-up for Youth : Dimpled 
Cheeks. Manhood. Middle Age. Making up as a Drunkard : One method ; another 
method. Old Age. Negroes. Moors. Chinese. King Lear. Shylock. Macbeth. 
Richelieu. Statuary. Clowns. 

Chapter VII. Special Hints to Ladies. — The Make-up. Theatrical Wigs and 
Hair Goods. 

JSf" Copies of the above will be mailed, post-paid, to any address, on receipt of 
the anncred />riccs.^S&& 

HAROLD ROORBACH, Publisher, 9 Murray St., New York. 



